


Interior View

by manningstar



Category: Glee
Genre: Dubcon or noncon, Friendship/Love, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manningstar/pseuds/manningstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do if you discover your new apartment has a one-way mirror that lets you spy unnoticed on your hot neighbor who just loves to put on a show for himself in the mirror on a regular basis? Would you resist or give in to your temptation to watch? Blaine moves to New York for a new job and becomes obsessed with watching Kurt, his neighbor and eventually his friend. Kurt is closed off romantically in real life, but he comes alive in front of his mirror. Blaine falls desperately in love, but can he salvage love out of deception? AU - noncon voyeurism, toys, porny, but with some plot, too - friendship to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Glee Kink Meme prompt in which Blaine moves into an apartment, discovers a one-way mirror into his neighbor Kurt's apartment, and discovers that Kurt likes to masturbate in front of the mirror, unknowingly putting on a show for his new neighbor Blaine. So, there is non-con voyeurism and use of toys. Blaine gets obsessed with Kurt and they develop a friendship as neighbors, with Kurt not knowing - at least for now - about the one-way mirror. Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated and I promise to respond to all reviews. Many thanks to Gigi42 for her amazing beta skills.

**June 7, 2022**

Blaine walks down the busy street, oversized hiking backpack bursting to the brim with his belongings on his back, and glances back and forth from the paper to the apartment building. He swipes at the sweat trickling down his brow with the back of his hand and sighs. This is not what he expected. He double checks once more, hoping he has it wrong. But no, this sagging building on this dirty street in a not-exactly up-and-coming neighborhood of the Bronx is number 1118.

He fishes in the side pocket of the backpack for a few futile moments before shrugging the whole thing off his shoulders to retrieve the keys. Getting his sweaty arms through the straps again is a struggle and his back bends a bit with the effort. It takes a few tries with each of the three keys before the lock clicks open and he steps inside the damp, dim, musky entryway. He glances at the mailboxes and sees number 4F. A few torn fragments remain from the label that had been above the box, but he can't read a name – just something that might be the letter 'y' in the space that would correspond with a last name.

At first, Blaine is puzzled. His aunt's name was Rebecca Anderson, no 'y' in her name. Then he remembers that while the apartment is still in Aunt Becca's name, she hadn't lived here for years. It was a sub-letter who was in the apartment last – the third or fourth one since Aunt Becca moved to the nursing home a few years ago. Blaine thinks it was a man, but he doesn't remember the name. His father took care of Aunt Becca's affairs. He had done so for years before she died and he took care of all the sub-letters.

It was a stroke of good fortune that the latest sub-letter moved out just when Blaine finished his internship and got the musical therapy job at Children's Hospital in the Bronx. Even in this neighborhood, Blaine would not have been able to afford an apartment on his small starting salary. But with the rent control inherited from Aunt Becca, Blaine can finally, at age 26, achieve his dreams of living in New York, making art and helping people.

The apartment itself feels musty and cramped, even without any furniture. The floor plan is slightly odd with a door from the kitchen opening directly into the bedroom and the living room without any true right angles. Although it is a fourth floor walk-up, there is no view. The bedroom and one wall of the living room have windows that face the solid brick walls of the building next door. By far the best feature of the apartment is a long and narrow walk-in closet off the bedroom. Blaine understands why a walk-in closet can be a selling feature for many people, but it doesn't really interest him. He would much rather have a decent view.

 _Oh, well. Beggers can't be choosers,_ he thinks with a wry grin as he drops his backpack to the floor. Blaine digs through his backpack and pulls out a mat and a pillowcase. He shoves some clothing on the pillowcase and drops the makeshift pillow onto the makeshift bed in the middle of the living room. His parents agreed to have some of his furniture delivered after he had a chance to see the apartment and decide what he wanted them to send from his home in Westerville, Ohio. He finds his toiletries and a towel, and takes a quick shower. _At least I can add good water pressure to the list of pros,_ he thinks as he dries himself off _._ He strews most of his belongings across the floor in his effort to find his errant hair gel. Twenty minutes later, he is dressed and his hair in place. With notepad and pen in hand, he grabs his wallet and keys and heads out to find a bite to eat.

Blaine slides the key out of the second lock on the apartment door, turns and almost slams into someone trying to walk past him in the narrow hallway. The other man fumbles with a bag of takeout for a moment, but catches it, then straightens and stiffens a bit, looking at Blaine with his head raised and a slightly haughty expression. Blaine's mouth drops open and for a moment he just stammers stupidly, unable to form a proper sentence.

The man is _gorgeous._ He has long limbs, impeccable clothes, chestnut hair swept artfully off his forehead, a chiseled face, impossibly pale skin and eyes that are a mesmerizing swirl of green and blue. _Are you a model? Are you a dream?_ "Are you my neighbor?" Blaine finally spits out. When the gorgeous, must-be-a-model man just raises a brow, Blaine offers his hand and continues, "I'm so sorry about that. I'm Blaine. Anderson. I'm moving in to 4F." He gestures vaguely at the door behind him.

This time when he extends his hand, the man shifts his carryout bag into his other hand and grasps his hand firmly and gives it one solid pump before releasing it again. "Pleasure," he says in a musical, lilting voice. "Kurt Hummel. I'm in 4G." He extends a long thin finger toward the door on the other side of Blaine. When he says "Excuse me," Blaine presses back against his door to let Kurt pass.

"Have dinner with me?" blurts Blaine.

Kurt looks at Blaine, then down at his takeout bag. He raises that eyebrow again and waits.

"Oh," says Blaine, face falling from hopeful to dejected in an instant. "I guess you already have dinner. Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," says Kurt noncommittally. He starts to unlock his door, then tosses over his shoulder, "The Thai place on Webster and Fourth is great. Just turn right out the front door, go two blocks and turn left."

"Thanks," calls Blaine to a sliver of Kurt's back as he disappears through the door.

**June 9, 2022**

Blaine's furniture is due to arrive tomorrow and he can't wait. Living like a nomad with camping gear in an empty apartment gets old very fast. He also is anxious to get the apartment set up before his first day at Children's Hospital on Monday. Today is Saturday and he has spent the day exploring the neighborhood, stocking his pantry, and trolling for a few small pieces of furniture on Craig's list. He's spent the evenings checking out local bars and coffee shops with open mic nights. His guitar will arrive with the rest of his furniture and he is looking forward to singing for an audience again – rather than just for the shower walls.

He gave the floor, walls and kitchen surfaces a half-hearted scrub. Everything seemed pretty clean when he moved in. He doesn't think he'll need to paint, either. The only thing he wants to change, other than adding the much-needed furniture, is the wallpaper along the wall of the walk-in closet. The wall on the left side of the long and narrow closet is painted a buttery cream and has rods for hanging clothes stretching all the way across its length. The back of the closet and the far section of the wall on the right are also painted in the buttery cream, but the four feet of wall closest to the door are covered floor to ceiling with an obnoxious wall paper – black with large, ornate flowers in clashing neon hues. It looks like it was put up in a hurry, with corners askew and pieces overlapping and already starting to peel. Blaine wonders if the wall is painted beneath or if there is something even uglier underneath that the paper is hiding. He is annoyed that he may need to repaint the entire closet just to cover up the one section of wall.

He told Kurt about it in one of his typical moments of over-sharing. He actually has seen Kurt on two more occasions since his first evening in the apartment. Once was the next day. He spotted his elegant neighbor in the back booth of the coffee shop on the corner of their street yesterday morning. After placing his order, he slid into the seat opposite Kurt and said, "Hi, neighbor."

Kurt looked up from his magazine with an annoyed expression. But his eyes softened a bit with recognition. "It's Blaine, right?"

"Yes, that right. And you're Kurt." Blaine answers. "What are you reading?" he asks, glancing down at the open pages of the thick magazine. Kurt is looking at pictures of a very modern, sleek living room in a loft with wide, open spaces.

"Interior Design," Kurt says, spinning the magazine so it the picture is right side up for Blaine, quickly flipping it to show him the cover, which indeed reads, Interior Design. "It's for work."

"Oh – you do interior design?" Blaine asks. He loves the sound of Kurt's voice and is thrilled that his gorgeous – and slightly haughty – neighbor is willing to talk with him.

"Among other things," says Kurt mysteriously.

"Let me guess. You must be a model," says Blaine, glancing up and down at Kurt's avante-garde outfit.

Kurt stiffens a bit and a shadow crosses his face. "Um, no. Just a little acting on the side."

"Oh," says Blaine and falters for a moment, before he asks what acting Kurt has done. Kurt brightens a bit and rattles off the names of a few community theaters in the Bronx where he has had a small part or two.

It turns out that Blaine knows quite a bit about musicals, and their conversation flows from there. Blaine grabs his coffee and they sit and chat through that cup and another round, which Blaine buys for both of them.

Blaine tells Kurt about the hideous wallpaper and asks for his professional opinion on how to replace it. "Strip it all off first and see what you have underneath. I know you're worried it will look worse, but it doesn't sound likely there could be much worse from your description of that wallpaper. It is just as likely to be some antique wood paneling or something just as beautiful. People are idiots and don't know how to use the assets of a building, most of the time. But seriously, I can't really advise you about what to do next until you see what you have now."

Blaine has his elbows on the table and his chin resting in his interlaced fingers. He is staring, fascinated at Kurt's lips and is having a hard time concentrating on what he's saying. He looks back into Kurt's eyes, which are bright with excitement as he extolls upon all the possible treasures that might be hidden behind hideous wallpaper.

"Go out with me tonight," says Blaine interrupts, smiling.

Kurt stiffens and his haughty expression falls back over his face like a shroud. "No."

"Aw, come on Kurt. You'll have a good time, I promise," says Blaine, nudging Kurt's leg with his foot.

Kurt slides out of the booth and is on his feet in an instant. "I thought I was done with pushy neighbors who won't take no for an answer. God, you all just want the same thing," he huffs, speaking not at Blaine but somewhere into the middle distance between them. He spins on his heel and marches out to the street, slamming the coffee shop door and leaving a bewildered Blaine blinking after him.

The next time he saw Kurt was early this morning, and it was the first time Blaine wishes he didn't run into Kurt. Blaine was standing in the hallway in his t-shirt and boxer shorts, whispering a hurried goodbye a hastily-dressed, tall man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Last night was great, can I get your number?" Blaine was asking his companion as Kurt rounded the corner from the stairwell.

"Naah – I don't like to fuck the same guy more than once," said Blaine's companion. "I'll see you around." But Blaine wasn't looking at the man with the ponytail anymore. He was looking into Kurt's judging eyes.

"I knew it," Kurt muttered as he pushed past Blaine to get to his apartment door. "Thank God I trusted my instincts yesterday." And with that, he slipped through the door and shut it behind him, and Blaine was alone in the hallway in his boxer shorts.

Now, Blaine stands in front of the offending wallpaper once more, as his shame hardens into anger toward his neighbor. _What the hell is his problem? I'm a young, healthy gay man in New York. I have every right to bring a man back to my apartment._

Blaine grabs the fraying piece of wallpaper and yanks it. It tears away from the wall with a satisfying tug. For a few moments, everything is loud ripping sounds and flying paper and Blaine chases the release he only gets while boxing. He shakes his head and the sweat flies from his brow and drips down his back as he pants, staring at the wall.

Blaine was expecting another layer of even more hideous wallpaper. Or perhaps a water stain yellowing across the otherwise flawless paint. Or even wood paneling as Kurt suggested. He could never have anticipated what he did see.

From floor to ceiling, four feet across, is a giant window. And that window looks directly into his neighbor's – into Kurt's living room.

Heart racing, Blaine rummages through his pile of belongings on the floor of the living room and finds a roll of duct tape and a sheet. He runs back to the closet and covers up the window with the sheet, then closes the closet door and backs away. _Does Kurt know about that? Can he see into my closet, too? How long has that been there? God, no wonder he's so touchy about his neighbors._

**June 10, 2022**

Blaine is busy most of the day directing the movers and helping them carry boxes from the truck up the four flights of stairs to his apartment. He keeps the closet door tightly shut all day, resolutely not thinking about the sheet and the view it shields.

He is surprised when he hears Kurt's voice calling to Blaine and the two movers through his open apartment door. They have finished lugging the last of the larger pieces up the stairs and Blaine is counting out cash for a tip when Kurt asks if anyone would like some iced tea or lemonade. All three of them heartily agree and call out their thanks.

"Come over to my apartment to drink it. I have my air conditioner on," says Kurt. "Just take your shoes off in the hall, okay?"

The movers gulp down their lemonades quickly and start to shuffle out the door with another thank you to Kurt. Blaine drains the rest of this iced tea and starts after them, but stops and turns when he hears Kurt say, “I’m sorry about yesterday. What I said to you in the hallway was pretty rude and judgmental. And a bit inappropriate.” 

“It’s okay, Kurt,” says Blaine. “We don’t know each other very well.” He looks down and feels a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he says, “I’d like to. Get to know you, I mean.” He looks up hopefully.

Kurt is folded in on himself, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other held tight to his side. “I’m not interested in dating anyone right now,” he says tightly.

“What about being friends?” asks Blaine, eyes wide and pleading.

“Yeah,” says Kurt quietly. “That would be nice.”

Blaine is smiling at Kurt and finally start to take in the rest of the room – the rich chocolate sofa, the matching cloth-topped end table, the carefully placed art objects. The apartment is very much the abode of an interior designer.

 _It looks different from this side,_ Blaine thinks, then freezes. He had forgotten about his discovery that morning. He wonders exactly how to ask Kurt whether he knows about the interior window between their apartments. Blaine’s eyes flick over to the living room wall, expecting to see a four-foot window to match the one in his own apartment. But instead, he sees a floor-to-ceiling, four-foot wide mirror.

"That's a nice mirror," says Blaine slowly, as he walks closer to it. He leans in close, but all he sees is his own reflection. There is not a glimpse of the closet on the other side. It suddenly dawns on him. It's a one-way mirror. _Oh God, does he know? Does he think I’m creeping on him? Watching him?_ "Uh, I b-better make sure the m-m-movers have what they need. Thanks again," Blaine stammers as he backs out of Kurt's apartment, tripping over his shoes in the doorway.

"Oh, wait, Blaine," Kurt calls after him. Blaine freezes in the doorway, just out of Kurt's sight and waits, heart beating rapidly. "Did you get a chance to pull up that wallpaper? I've just been dying to know what’s underneath."

"Oh – uh, no. I haven't done it yet. I'll let you know. Gotta go," Blaine barks out, closing the door and scooping up his shoes in one hand. _It's a one-way mirror that lets me see into his apartment. And he has no idea._

 

**March 28, 2023**

Blaine is only passing through the bedroom to grab a sweater against the unseasonable chill when movement catches his eye. He is in the middle of working on taxes, and thinks Kurt isn't even home – didn't he say he would be out of town for the weekend? Determined to ignore the movement, Blaine turns his back to the open closet door. But when a familiar soft moan drifts through the wall, he heads straight for the closet without another thought. He pushes the door open wide and stares through the floor-to-ceiling, four-foot wide glass panel into his neighbor's apartment.

It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Usually, when Blaine watches him, Kurt is bathed in bright light. But today, Kurt's living room is lit only by a small, dim lamp on the table to the far side of the sofa. It is when Blaine's eyes shift to the lamp that he notices movement again – a flash of white. He looks again at the sofa and gasps. Kurt is already fully naked, draped back on the sofa with long legs stretched wide, toned chest shining in the soft light, cock already half hard as he traces a nipple with his finger, tilting his head back into the sofa cushions. This is different, too. Usually Blaine gets to watch Kurt unwrap his layers in an artful dance performed for himself as he watches himself in the mirror.

The sofa is almost at a right angle to Blaine's view. Kurt has said that while he loves the large mirrored wall – it makes the room look so much bigger, after all – he doesn't want to stare at himself while on the sofa watching a movie or eating a snack. Kurt shifts back and now Blaine's view is partly obscured by the arm of the sofa. He can still see Kurt's chest, his legs as he lifts one and runs his fingers up and down the calf and then back up the thigh until it disappears from view, arm pumping up and down for a moment before the hand goes back to tracing a nipple again. He also can see Kurt's glorious face – eyes closed and mouth slightly open.

 _God, I’ve always said he could be a model,_ thinks Blaine as he backs up and reaches blindly behind him until he feels the bench and slowly sinks down, settling in to watch. Kurt stands and Blaine's mouth is watering as he focuses on Kurt's fully erect cock that is bobbing slightly as he takes a few steps forward. Then he turns and Blaine can see the soft round globes of Kurt's ass as he walks toward his bedroom and out of Blaine's vision. Disappointment crashes over him in waves. It is rare that Kurt moves his self-love sessions into the bedroom, but once he does, he rarely comes back into Blaine's view. Blaine's breathing is finally starting to slow, his erection starting to fade and he is standing up, ready to go back to working on taxes when Kurt reappears. He has a towel draped over one arm, a bottle of lube in one hand and – strangely enough – his phone in the other.

Blaine almost laughs, thinking, _what doesn't belong in this picture?_ His smile widens as he watches Kurt carefully place the towel on the sofa before arranging himself artfully over the sofa. This is a perfect tableau of the conundrum that is his next-door neighbor. The fastidiousness of placing a towel on top of the couch blended with the wanton abandon of jacking off buck naked in his living room. Blaine thinks he'll never get tired of the puzzle that is Kurt Hummel. And he'll never get tired of watching him. Even if it sets off pangs of guilt every time he and Kurt are chatting casually over coffee or sharing a homemade dinner in one of their apartments.

Blaine had avoided letting Kurt into his apartment for as many weeks as he could after he moved in last June. Kurt kept asking about what was beneath that damn wallpaper. At that point, Blaine was already watching him every night that they weren’t out grabbing dinner or a drink together, or watching a movie in Kurt’s apartment. Blaine told him it was just covering up a water stain on the wall and he had already repainted it. Kurt was disappointed, but soon seemed to forget. Blaine switched out the closet doorknob for one that opens with a key and made sure to carefully lock the door and hide the key in his desk drawer whenever Kurt was hanging out at his apartment. Kurt never asked about the locked door. Blaine is pretty sure Kurt wouldn’t go trying to open doors uninvited anyway, but he would rather lock the door so he can relax when spending time with Kurt.

Blaine pushes away the guilt knocking at the edges of his thoughts and focuses again on Kurt through the glass. Kurt glances around the room quickly, frowning. Kurt lifts himself off the sofa, a picture of grace, and pushes the end of it until it is angled toward Blaine. He pops open the lube and dribbles some on his cock and his abdomen. Blaine sits back down, settling in once more. He knows what comes next and he is not about to miss the gloriousness of Kurt's face twisted in pleasure, the moans and whines that are audible through the wall.

Kurt begins to run his fingers through the slickness on his abdomen and up his shaft. He grabs the phone with the other hand, thumb skimming across the screen. Blaine wonders if he is looking at pictures of some other naked man and feels a sharp pang of jealousy before pushing the feeling away. He has never seen Kurt watch porn or look at anything on a computer, phone or in a magazine before. Usually he just watches his own body in the mirror. The full-length, one-way mirror that Blaine is now looking through into Kurt's apartment.

Blaine is startled by the buzzing in his pocket. He looks down at his lap for a moment, blinking stupidly, before his brain shifts back into gear and he realizes it is his phone vibrating. He pulls it out and flips it open one handed, presses it to his ear and murmurs "Hello", eyes still fixed on Kurt. Kurt, who is now staring straight at him. Kurt, whose breathy voice comes through the phone while he is staring right at him and stroking his straining erection, "Blaine?"

Blaine freezes and almost drops the phone. Kurt is staring straight at him. _Can he see me? Does he know? Has he known this whole time? Shit, what do I do?_

"Blaine, are you there?" asks Kurt and his hand stills, covering his dick.

"Sorry, yes, I'm here. Just dropped the phone for a second," Blaine lies deftly. "What's up?" Blaine cringes as he says that unintentional pun.

"Not much," says Kurt. He is still looking intently at Blaine. It almost looks like he's staring into his eyes. But that paired with his nonchalant tone doesn't add up. He sounds like he always does when they call each other for a quick chat. He certainly doesn't sound angry at being watched or even turned on, though he is clearly still very aroused. Blaine can't just ask if Kurt can see him. What if it's just an illusion and he would give himself away?

"Can you hold on a second? I was right in the middle of something. I'll be right back, okay?" says Blaine before switching the phone to speaker, muting it and placing it on the bench beside him.

"Okay," says Kurt. He continues to stare intently at Blaine.

Blaine tries a few different things to get a reaction. He makes all his best ridiculous faces into the window. No change in Kurt's expression. He holds up his middle finger. No reaction from Kurt. He dashes into the living room where his papers are spread across the room and jogs back with a scrawled note that he presses up to the glass – _Do you see me?_ Nothing. He strips off his own clothes, and feeling ridiculous, strikes a pose. Kurt just shifts a bit on the sofa. His gaze moves a bit off of Blaine and he starts poking at and smoothing down his hair.

Blaine lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. _Oh. He's just looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't see me._

Still naked, Blaine grabs his own lube and a hand towel, and returns to his seat on the bench. He unmutes the phone and says, "Kurt, you still there?" He watches Kurt startle a bit and hears him mutter a yes. "I'm so sorry about that. I'm working on my taxes and I knocked over a whole pile of papers when I reached for the phone. I just wanted to straighten them out before the air from the heating vent blew them across the room."

"It's okay, really. How is it going?"

"Fine – as fine as taxes can go." Blaine feels like he has entered some alternate universe. He and Kurt are calmly discussing taxes while both naked and hard on either side of a one-way mirror. "Um – how is your trip going? I thought I heard a noise from your apartment earlier. Are you back already?"

"Yeah – I actually never went. My stepbrother called to cancel at the last minute. But it's no big deal – I'll see him over Memorial Day weekend. Anyway, I don't really want to talk about my stepbrother right now." Blaine isn't sure if he really hears a hitch in Kurt's breath or if he's just imagining it, now that Kurt is back to tweaking his nipples with his free hand.

"What do you want to talk about?" Blaine almost asks if he wants to come over, but stops himself. Clearly, Kurt is busy. And Blaine doesn't want this to stop. Hearing Kurt's voice so clearly through the phone while watching him trace patterns on his skin is intoxicating, mesmerizing. Usually he only can hear a soft tone through the wall… _Oh crap – what if he can hear my speakerphone through the wall and realizes I'm right behind his mirror!_ Blaine leaps up and stumbles back out to the living room to grab his earpiece off the desk.

This is even better, he thinks, when Kurt's lilting voice sounds directly in his ear, "Oh, I don't know. A story from work? Something fun from your childhood? A crazy college tale? I just wanted to hear your voice."

Blaine is back on the bench. His hands are free, but he hesitates to stroke his own erection. He has no idea how Kurt's voice can be so steady while he's pumping his cock lazily. Blaine doesn't think he can do the same. It's clear now that Kurt wants to get off to the sound of Blaine's voice and that he has no idea that Blaine knows. Blaine feels a flush creep out from his cheeks and down his neck. He never thought he would ever feature in one of Kurt's fantasies. Kurt always seems so closed-off when they are together, so uninterested in anything beyond being friends. Blaine's stomach does a nervous flip. He wants to make this good for Kurt. Maybe if he continues to have a role in Kurt's fantasies, Kurt will want to make those fantasies real.

Blaine runs through the beginnings of five different stories in his mind before he settles on one and begins. "Okay. I think I have a good one for you. Mike – you know, my friend Mike from work – just told me about something that happened to him when he was in high school."

"Uh-huh," says Kurt coolly. He is watching himself in the mirror as he props his head with a pillow against the arm of the sofa and drapes one leg over its back. He starts slowly rolling his balls in one hand, the other still holding the phone to his ear.

"So, Mike was in one of the secretary's offices making copies of some student magazine or something and he hears a loud noise," Blaine lowers his voice and tries to sound seductive as he continues. "The noise was coming from the supply closet – sounding like something was dropping, and Mike moved in closer to investigate."

Kurt's hand on his balls pauses and he asks dryly, "This doesn't end with a murder or something, does it?"

Blaine huffs out a laugh, "You did say I should talk about anything. But no, this is definitely not a horror story." He switches back to what he hopes is a more seductive tone, "No, I'd say it's much more….titillating."

"Well in that case, do go on." Kurt rubs his balls again, then slides a finger further down toward his hole.

Blaine closes his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues. "There was a window from the office into the supply closet. When Mike looked through it, he saw one of the students pressed up against the shelves of office supplies by a teacher – kissing passionately and moaning."

"Oh God," groans Kurt, tilting his pelvis off the sofa and giving Blaine a better view of his finger slowly circling his rim. "What did Mike do?"

"He was really quiet and he kept watching," says Blaine quietly. He mutes the phone for a second to mask the sound of the lube squeezing out of the bottle and his sharp intake of breath as he smoothes the cool liquid over his hot dick. Unmuted again, he continues, slowly and sensually, "Do you want to know what happens next?"

"Oh dear God please yes," says Kurt all in one breath. He punches the speaker button of his phone and lays it on the table, then turns on his side facing the mirror and fists his cock in earnest, long strokes punctuated by a swipe of his thumb over the head.

Blaine is teasing his own cock with slow, light touches. He decides to change some of the details of Mike's story to make it better for Kurt – starting with the genders of the people involved. "The student flipped them around and pushed the teacher back against the shelves and Mike recognized them – it was the math teacher and the football captain. I don't remember their names, but Mike said the math teacher was a body builder in his spare time, so he had these rippling biceps and the football captain was really tall, toned and sinewy. The student was pumping his tongue in and out of the teacher's mouth and they're both groaning and whining, and when they stepped away from each other for a moment, panting, Mike could see that both their pants were tented, their erections straining against the cloth."

Kurt is writhing on the sofa now, hips jerking up and fucking into his fist, bicep and forearm bulging with the strain. "What – what happened next?" Kurt pants out in measured breaths, struggling not to sound winded.

"Then the student dropped down to his knees and pulled down the teacher's zipper. The teacher grabbed his hair and tilted his head back, and fished out his long, thick cock. He held the student's head in place and fed his cock right in to the student's open, willing mouth."

"Oh God – really?" came Kurt's strangled voice as he continued to fuck his fist furiously, his other hand flicking open the lube and drizzling more over his dick and fist.

"Yeah," Blaine's voice is rough as his own fingers close tighter around his cock and pump a little quicker. "The student was moaning like a whore and the teacher started fucking furiously into his mouth and kept saying, 'Keep going, it feels so good, oh yeah.'"

Kurt drops the lube on the floor and swipes his free hand through the excess on his stomach, coating his fingers.

"The teacher pulled out and came all over the other guy's face. He opened up his mouth and tried to catch it on his tongue, and then he was licking the rest of it off."

Kurt reaches behind himself and stills his hips, working a finger around and then into his hole, his other hand squeezing and flying up and down his glistening, straining cock. His mouth is open now, his head tilted back.

"The teacher pulled his own pants and underwear all the way off and bent over with his hands on a chair and just begged the other guy, 'please fuck me, please. I need you so bad, oh God.'" Blaine is really getting into the part, moaning as if he were begging Kurt directly instead of retelling (and embellishing) a friend’s story.

Kurt is thrashing and whining a bit now, and just as Blaine starts to describe the student's cock sliding into the teacher's already prepped hole, Kurt lunges for his phone and stabs the mute button. Kurt plunges his finger back into his hole and jerks his cock once, twice, three times before he stills, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. And then he's coming in long spurts over his own chest. Blaine can't hear anything off through his earpiece, but he can hear the faint "Uhhhhnnnggg," through the wall.

"My mom's on the other line, I gotta go," yelps Blaine just before he ends the call and comes into the hand towel he is holding in front of himself, shoving his fist into his mouth and whimpering around it as his body spasms. He slumps back against the wall for a moment, watching Kurt as he lays still on the sofa, sated. When Kurt stands up and starts to clean himself off with the towel, Blaine retreats into his own bathroom. He is about to turn on the shower, but remembers that he's supposed to be on the phone with his mom. Worried Kurt might hear the water running and somehow connect the dots, he lingers in the bathroom for at least ten minutes staring into his reflection and telling himself that he is a horrible person before he at last turns the water on and tries to wash some of the dirtiness he feels away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another - and rather long - chapter. Toys (yes, plural) make an appearance. Also lots more angst and a bit more of the origins of Blaine's mirror stalking. Also, I just have to ask since no one mentioned it. Has anyone recognized that story in the first chapter that Blaine tells Kurt over the phone? I got inspiration for that from something very specific and am wondering if anyone picked up on it. If not, I'll let you know when I post the next chapter.

**June 11, 2022**

Blaine spends all of Sunday frantically arranging his furniture and unpacking his belongings in an effort to push aside both his nervousness about his first day of work looming on Monday and his ambivalence about the secret hidden behind the still-shut closet door. He harbors an irrational fear that as soon as he opens the closet door again, Kurt will somehow be able to see through the mirror and will think that Blaine is watching him. So he resolutely kept the door shut.

 

Instead of using the closet, he drapes his pants, shirts and suit coats over every available surface – chairs, dressers, the blanket chest, a coffee table. He hangs a few items from nails in the walls that once held the previous tenant’s pictures, his own prints and framed posters still leaning against the walls.

 

**June 12, 2022**

 

Monday is a whirlwind of new and scary and exhilarating and Blaine is bouncing with excitement and anxiety all day. He is overwhelmed with trying to remember the names of almost forty doctors, nurses and support staff, let alone the other music therapists and their patients. He spends half of the day filling out paperwork and getting training on the charting system and the second half shadowing his co-worker Mike on rounds. Exhausted, but happy, he misses his train stop and spends about 20 minutes retracing his path to get back to the apartment.

 

**June 13, 2022**

 

On Tuesday, one of the other therapists calls in sick and Blaine, as the new guy, has to pull a double shift. On the plus side, he has already fallen in love with one of his patients – a young autistic boy who responds immediately to playing simple duets on the piano – and the double shift allows Blaine more time to work with him. Another plus is that Blaine is way too tired that night to dwell on the closet or the clothes strewn across the room. He skips dinner in favor of beer and falls asleep on the couch listening to Roxy Music.

 

 

**June 14, 2022**

 

By Wednesday morning, Blaine feels settled enough in his routine to risk spending a few minutes at the corner coffee shop in the morning. He sees Kurt there, poised and vibrant and gorgeous in yet another designer outfit, and is on his way to the table to say hello when he realizes that Kurt is not alone. He is sitting with a petite woman who is all sharp angles, crisp clothes and pin straight platinum blonde hair. Blaine strolls past them slowly, hoping to catch some of their conversation. From the snippets he hears – “there should be warm feel to the living area, rich colors but absolutely no purple” – he quickly realizes that Kurt is meeting with a client. Determined to make a better impression on his neighbor, Blaine swallows down his burning desire to interrupt Kurt’s meeting just to get those amazing blue-green eyes to focus on him.

 

He casts a final furtive glance toward Kurt before ordering his coffee to go.  Ambling toward the train station, he pauses every few feet to take a sip, stepping into building entryways or pressing himself closer to shop windows to let the more impatient commuters rush by.  Blaine’s thoughts keep wandering back to his beautiful neighbor and the one-way mirror between their apartments. Each time, Blaine drags his errant mind in any other direction – a song he is working on, a mental grocery list, a new method to try with an elderly patient. In spite of another busy work-day, Blaine’s anxiety about the mirror continues to grow. He resigns himself to coming up with a solution on the commute home, just to quiet his mind and allow himself to focus on work. By the time he reaches his apartment door that night, takeout in hand, he has decided he will just buy himself a wardrobe for his clothes, a lock for the closet door, throw the key down the gutter and never think about it again.

 

 

**June 15, 2022**

 

Blaine wakes up early and after a few minutes of tossing and turning decides to give up and get out of bed. Not interested in starting work early, he plods through his morning routine and buys a newspaper on his way to the coffee shop to pass the time. He is about halfway through an article about peace talks in the Middle East when he hears a familiar, melodious voice say, “Well, hello neighbor.” He looks up and sees Kurt, already sitting across from him in the booth. “You’re here early today.”

 

Blaine’s wide smile is involuntary – there’s just something about Kurt that draws him in and makes him feel whole. “Yes, I have another half hour before I need to leave for work, but my body decided to get up early against my will and I couldn’t get back to sleep. So here I am,” Blaine spreads his arms wide. “What about you? Is this your usual morning coffee time?”

 

“Yes, I like to get an early start. So I’m usually here in the mornings. It gives me a chance to plan out my day before I have to meet with clients or rush around the city searching for fabrics,” Kurt pauses to take a sip of coffee and Blaine smiles at him stupidly, thinking that he will gladly sacrifice thirty minutes of sleep every day if he gets to have coffee with Kurt. They sit in companionable silence for a moment before Kurt says animatedly, “Oh! You mentioned work. How is it going? Tell me all about it.”

 

They spend the next twenty minutes discussing Blaine’s most fascinating patients and Kurt’s most outrageous clients. They are discussing the upcoming holiday – Kurt plans to return to Ohio to visit family for July 4th while Blaine plans to catch some fireworks and maybe a party with one of his co-workers in Manhattan. Blaine glances down at his phone to check the time. He knows he is going to be late, but cannot tear himself away. Until Kurt brings up the wall paper again and Blaine shoots out of the booth, yelping that he is going to be late.

 

“Did you seriously not pull off the wall paper yet?” Kurt asks in a teasing voice. “That would have been the first thing I would have done. You realize that I’m going to barge into your apartment and rip it off myself if you haven’t done it by the next time I run into you.”

 

“Heh, heh,” Blaine forces a laugh. He backs away from the table forcing a smile and saying, “I’ll see you later.” With that he turns and practically runs out of the shop.     

 

Blaine has mandatory trainings all day. The instruction is slow-paced and most of the information was already covered in his schooling and internship. This gives Blaine’s thoughts ample time to wander. And after his encounter with Kurt this morning, there is only one place those thoughts want to go: to a certain one-way mirror in a certain closet. It seems that Kurt is not going to forget about the wall paper and what might be beneath it anytime soon. He needs to come up with a story that’s boring and believable about what is actually there to satisfy Kurt’s curiosity while discouraging him from wanting to see it for himself. At first he thinks he’ll say the wall paper covers a water stain on the wall, but then Kurt might want to investigate to see if there is a leak in the pipes. Maybe he’ll just say the paper is hiding a mark in the wall – like someone had gauged a piece out of it while moving furniture. Blaine can cover his side of the mirror with drywall, repaint the closet and then not have to worry about how to explain what is _really_ in the closet if Kurt ever does come over. Blaine spends the next hour half paying attention to the training and half daydreaming about scenarios in which Kurt comes over to his apartment. Most of these scenarios end with clothes strewn across the room and naked limbs twisting together while Kurt moans in ecstasy. _Hmmm, maybe I should still get a lock for the closet door, just in case._

 

Eager to put his plan into place, Blaine asks a co-worker how to get to the closest hardware store. Once there, he realizes that drywall is too big to hide in a bag. _What if I run into Kurt in the hallway and he sees it? How am I going to explain why I need that without fueling his damn curiosity?_

Kurt did say he would be out of town for July Fourth, so Blaine decides it is safer to wait with the drywall and paint until then. In the meantime, he buys a roll of duct tape, a heavy-duty black tarp, and a doorknob with a deadbolt he can lock with a key from the outside of the door. He also buys a tool bag to hide his other purchases.

 

Heart pounding, Blaine hurries up the stairs, then creeps as quietly as possible down the hallway, peeking his head around the corner and making sure the hall is empty and his key is at the ready before rushing to open his door. He closes the door and leans against it, catching his breath. _I am officially a crazy person,_ he thinks as he stashes the tool bag with his purchases under his bed. _I mean really – do I think that Kurt is going to show up at the door demanding to see the wall paper and then see my tool bag in the hallway and say “Ah-ha! I knew it! You have a one-way mirror into my apartment.”_ But no matter how silly it sounds, hiding the tool bag allows him to start the water boiling for his pasta and flip through the mail he collected on his way back to the apartment.

 

After two plates of pasta and a bottle of red wine, Blaine feels ready to tackle the closet once more. He just needs to put up the tarp with the duct tape and then he will feel comfortable hanging clothes in the closet without worrying that Kurt can somehow see in. And in two weeks he can put up the drywall and it will be as if the one-way mirror never existed.

 

Blaine starts to tackle the doorknob first, but soon realizes that putting in the new knob with the lock will require a drill that he doesn’t have. Plus that would create some suspicious noise that Kurt might overhear. He decides to wait with the lock and pulls out the tarp.

 

Blaine contemplates leaving the sheet that is already hanging over the one-way mirror and placing the tarp over it, but he is getting sick of sleeping without a top sheet and would like to avoid having to go shopping for a new one. Telling himself that taking down the sheet and putting up the tarp will only take a few minutes and that Kurt is probably not even home, Blaine peels away the tape.

 

The sheet drops to the ground and Blaine freezes, breath stuck in his throat. Kurt is _right there_. He is still wearing his outfit from that morning – close fitted black pants and a black vest over a white button down shirt with the sleeves pushed up over his elbows and an elegant black and white patterned scarf at his neck. Kurt strides purposefully from one end of the living room to another and back again, turning this way and that, looking intently at the furniture. Blaine knows he should look away, close the closet door, cover the window with tarp – something. But he can’t look away. Kurt is so elegant, so beautiful, so unguarded. It is a privilege to see him this way – to be able to stare to his heart’s content without having to worry about being rude or making Kurt uncomfortable. _Of course, he would be incredibly uncomfortable if he knew you are watching him right now,_ a voice says in the back of Blaine’s brain, but it is easily pushed aside in favor of running his eyes up and down Kurt’s body hungrily.

 

Kurt continues to walk from one side of the room to the other with purpose. He slows down in front of a bookcase and stops, one hand across his waist and holding his elbow, with the other hand pointing straight up, a finger resting on his chin. His feet are almost at right angles and his hip is jutting out. He turns and paces again, stopping this time in front of the sofa with the same stance, but his arms in the opposite position. Blaine wonders what he is doing. Suddenly, Kurt’s gaze falls on the mirror and Blaine ducks out of sight before he remembers that Kurt can’t see him. Kurt spins slowly around the room, a look of concentration on his face. He stops facing something out of Blaine’s view and stands still for a few minutes, allowing Blaine to drink in his profile. Suddenly, Kurt springs into action. He dashes about the room moving the furniture first into one arrangement, then another. He grabs decorative vases and bowls and picture frames from the bookshelf and side tables and rearranges them into one configuration after another, rapid-fire. Between each arrangement, Kurt pauses for a moment, spinning around again and giving each piece a critical eye before bursting into action again. Blaine had no idea that so many combinations could come from just a few pieces of furniture and accessories. And all of them look fabulous. After the fifth arrangement, Kurt starts to slow down. His movements are more deliberate and he seems calmer. He walks out of Blaine’s sight for a moment and returns with a camera. After snapping a few pictures, Kurt slowly and meticulously pushes all the furniture back to its original arrangement. He also moves each picture and vase and bowl back to its original spot. He pauses for a moment, then quickly switches swaps one vase for a bowl. Other than this one small change, the room looks identical to the way it did before Kurt moved anything. He looks around the room again with a smile, then moves out of Blaine’s view again.

 

When Kurt doesn’t return right away, Blaine covers the one-way mirror with the tarp and tapes it in place. He grabs a shirt that is hanging from a nail on the wall and moves it into the closet. When he heads back into the bedroom for more clothes, he glances at the clock and realizes with a start that he was watching Kurt for more than an hour. _Oh God – I AM a creeper. What is wrong with me? Maybe I really should lock up that door and throw away the key._

 

Resigned to never setting foot in his closet again, Blaine is looking up wardrobes for sale on Craigslist when he hears a knock outside. Unsure if it is his door or one of the others on the hallway, Blaine hops up and looks out the peephole. He sees a slightly distorted image of Kurt, his hand raised to knock again. Blaine yells, “Coming” to stop Kurt’s knock and swings the door open. Kurt is no longer wearing the scarf and Blaine finds his eyes drawn to the exposed expanse of Kurt’s long white neck. “Hi,” he manages and forces his eyes upward to meet Kurt’s.

 

“It’s not too late to knock, is it?” asks Kurt and Blaine shakes his head no.

 

“What’s going on?” Blaine asks. He is acutely aware that he is holding the door open only a few inches and standing in the opening, blocking Kurt’s view into the apartment. He doesn’t want to be rude, but at the same time he keeps thinking about the door to the closet. _Is it open or closed?_ He can’t remember and he can’t risk Kurt seeing the tarp and the duct tape and asking questions.

 

“Um,” Kurt says, grinding the ball of his foot back and forth on the hallway carpet and trying to peer around Blaine into the apartment behind him. “I made some strawberry tart and went a bit overboard. I can’t possibly eat all of it. I was wondering if you want some. I could bring it over now – maybe see how your apartment is coming along,” his voice trails off when he sees Blaine’s panicked face. “Or maybe some other time…”

 

Blaine is torn. He can’t let Kurt in the apartment, but Kurt has taken a step to move their friendship from occasionally seeing each other around to hanging out in each other’s apartments. Blaine doesn’t want to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Kurt is already starting to turn away, dejected and mumbling something about how he sees that Blaine must be busy. _Oh God – he thinks I have some guy in here for a hook-up again._

 

“Wait!” shouts Blaine, a little too loudly. “I’m not busy at all. I just – I’m a bit embarrassed about the state of my apartment. You know, you want to have the place clean the first time your interior-design-expert friend sees it. But I would love some strawberry tart. Maybe tomorrow night, after I clean up a bit?”

 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Kurt laughs. “Just come over to my place. If you’re not busy that is?”

 

“No – no. Not busy at all. Thanks.” Blaine shuffles out of the apartment and closes the door behind him in one swift motion, blocking Kurt’s view, then locks the door and follows Kurt to his apartment. Blaine remembers to toe off his shoes and leave them in the hallway and Kurt smiles gratefully in acknowledgement of the gesture. Blaine’s stomach flips and he wonders if there is any minimum amount of time that you need to spend with a person before you can say with certainty that you are in love.

 

The strawberry tart is delicious and Blaine groans appreciatively. They are sitting in the living room and Blaine keeps glancing at the mirror nervously. He can feel heat creep across his face and his next glance in the mirror confirms that he is blushing. In an effort to distract Kurt from his odd behavior, he blurts out the first thing that comes into his mind. “I see you rearranged some things. I really like it,” he says, instantly regretting it when Kurt’s eyes widen. After all, Blaine may have spent an hour watching Kurt rearrange furniture, but then he put it all back to exactly the way it was before. Or almost all the way back. Blushing an even deeper shade of red, Blaine gestures toward the vase and bowl that had switched places.

 

“Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. This is not happening again,” Kurt says more to himself than to Blaine.

 

“Again? What?” Blaine asks as Kurt grabs the plate of half-eaten tart from his hand and gestures at him to stand up. “I’m sorry?” he asks, not sure whether he needs to apologize as Kurt steers him toward the door.

 

“Yeah – I think we need to stick to having coffee in a public place. I’ll see you in the morning.” And suddenly Blaine is staring at Kurt’s closed door.

 

When he gets back to his apartment, the slightly opened closet door mocks him. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help watching Kurt for a few minutes as he sits in his living room and stares first at the bowl, then the vase, and then the coffee table, between the two plates of half-eaten tarts. _Does Kurt think I was making fun of him?_

 

 

**June 16, 2022**

 

The next day, Blaine waits in the coffee shop for fifteen minutes before Kurt walks in. Kurt doesn’t stop to place a coffee order, but walks straight to the table to join Blaine.

 

“Before you say anything, let me just apologize and say that I know I’m a total spazz,” Kurt starts contritely.

 

“No, I’m sorry,” Blaine cuts in. “Whatever I did to offend you, I wish I could take it back.”

 

“No, you really don’t need to apologize,” says Kurt. “You really didn’t do anything. It’s just that something you said reminded me of something one of my creepy ex-neighbors said and it set me off. Really, it’s not your fault.”

 

“One of your creepy ex-neighbors? How many have you had?” _And does that include me?_

“Two, I guess. The second one mostly kept propositioning me and didn’t really want to take no for an answer. But the first one was really creepy. He was always trying to get me to come over to his apartment to check out one of his ‘collections’ – I don’t even know what he collected, exactly. He would come up with all kinds of pretexts to borrow things, so he had been in my apartment a few times, but I never really invited him to stick around. One time he was borrowing – I don’t know, a paring knife or something – and he said something about my furniture looking different, too.”

 

Blaine is feeling a cold horror creep up the back of his neck like ice.  When he speaks, his voice sounds distant and hollow to him, like he is floating somewhere above and hearing this conversation between two other people. “That is weird. What did he say?” Blaine asks this, but isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

 

“Well, it was very similar to what you said. Something about how he liked how I changed things. And I had. I do that a lot. Sometimes I spend hours rearranging all my furniture and décor into different combinations. I usually do it when I’m stressed about something. I know it sounds weird, but it relaxes me. But usually, I put everything back exactly the way it was. Sometimes I change one little thing or another. Anyway, the time he said something, I had put everything back exactly the way it was. At first I thought he was spying on me through the window or something. But then I realized there was no way he could have done that – unless he could scale the building or something. But when I did figure it out, it was even scarier.” Kurt pauses dramatically, leaning forward.

 

Blaine feels a drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. It itches and he longs to wipe it away, but he is frozen to the spot. He is waiting for Kurt to tell him he knows about the mirror. Maybe he’ll call the police. Maybe – but Kurt was speaking again, “I realized he must be some kind of super obsessive compulsive type. He probably had hairs taped up all over his own apartment to see if anyone had moved anything even an inch. And he could tell that my chair or my sofa was just the slightest bit out of place. It really freaked me out.”

 

Blaine’s hands are trembling and he grips his knees under the table trying to still them. Kurt is waiting for a response, so he squeaks out, “Wow.”

 

“Yeah – creepy, huh?” Kurt asks and Blaine nods numbly. “Anyway, when you said that I thought I had moved everything back this time, too. And I thought this was just history repeating itself. I was afraid you might do other things he did, like…well…I don’t really want to go into it right now. Let’s just say he was creepy.”

 

Kurt leans back, gazing at Blaine fondly and looking perfectly comfortable. Blaine feels like he is missing something. Obviously, this previous neighbor also watched Kurt through the mirror just like Blaine had. So why is Kurt sitting calmly with him in a coffee shop, confiding in him, and not calling the police? Blaine feels like he is going to jump out of his skin. When he can no longer stand the suspense he asks, “So…something changed between last night and now?”

 

Kurt looks puzzled for a moment before his mouth drops into a comical O. “Oh my gosh! I left out the whole point! Sorry. Anyway, after I kicked you out last night – and I’m so sorry, oh my God – I just sat in my living room for a while thinking about it. Then I finally realized that I took pictures of everything this time. So I pulled up the pictures on my laptop and compared them to the room to see what was different and I saw – ”

 

“ – the vase and the bowl,” Kurt and Blaine finished together.

 

Kurt beams at him and continues, “You have a really good eye. I think you’re the first person to ever notice one of my smaller changes like that – other than my creepy ex-neighbor, but that was completely different.” Kurt beams at him again and Blaine’s anxiety melts away.

 

“Yeah, I uh, noticed right away that something looked different. I didn’t think it was possible to make the room look better – but you nailed it. You have a real talent,” Blaine gushes. He feels a stab of guilt about his lie of omission, but he is being honest about Kurt’s talent.

 

Kurt smiles to himself and looks down, embarrassed. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

 

“Well, I guess I better head off to work. See you later?”

 

“At coffee tomorrow, if not before,” says Kurt with a grin.

 

Blaine makes it halfway down the street before he veers into an alley. He dry heaves again and again, but nothing comes up. Slowly he straightens, takes a few deep breaths, and continues to the train station.

 

When Blaine gets back to his apartment, he shuts the closet door and drags his dresser in front of it. He tries to distract himself with Facebook, a movie on Netflix, a video game. But before his mind catches up, his fingers are typing “Kurt Hummel” “Interior Design” into Google, Linked In and Facebook, pouring again and again over the few pictures of Kurt, some of his sample designs, and his resume. At midnight, he drags the dresser away from the door and peeks through the one-way mirror, but Kurt’s apartment is already dark.

 

 

**June 22, 2022**

 

Blaine spends the week fighting the growing itch to watch Kurt through the window. They continue to get together for coffee every weekday morning and to live their separate lives the rest of the week. But on Thursday night Blaine hears faint music through the wall between their apartments and he presses his ear to the wall, straining to hear better. It sounds like a show tune – perhaps something from Les Misérables? _Oh screw being it,_ Blaine thinks as he shoves the dresser away from the closet door and swings it open. And there is Kurt, standing up close to the mirror, and Blaine can tell he is mouthing the words to Bring Him Home with shining eyes. Blaine stands as close to the mirror as he dares, not daring to move or breathe, trying to hear the faint sounds of Kurt’s clear, angelic voice drift through the wall.

 

As soon as Kurt retreats to his bedroom, Blaine pulls out his headphones and his laptop and searches for every combination of Kurt Hummel and singing that he can think of. He culls through his memories of conversations over coffee and comes up with Lima, Ohio, which is how he finds first McKinley High School and then a Tumblr page dedicated to the alums of McKinley High’s Glee Club that seems to be run by a Barbra Streisand look-alike named Rachel. Through this he finds videos of glee club performances from ten and eleven years ago. He watches them all. Then he finds some solo recordings of Rachel, then Kurt, then both of them together. His favorite by far is a show-stopping rendition of ‘Not the Boy Next Door’ that features Kurt ripping off black tuxedo pants to reveal shiny, tight gold lame pants, singing an impossibly long and high G, sitting on his legs and shimmying his back all the way to the floor, throwing amazing high kicks, and moving his hips in seductive circles. Not the boy next door, indeed. Kurt is hot as hell. Blaine watched it again and again, an embarrassing number of times before he finally drags himself to bed.

 

The next morning he barely lets Kurt get out a hello before he’s inviting him out to sing karaoke on Saturday night. When Kurt declines, Blaine pushes, “But you love to sing, come on!”

 

Kurt’s visage darkens and suddenly his voice is cold is ice. “How do you know that I sing?”

 

Blaine’s smile falters a bit. There is no way to say _because I watched you sing Bring Him Home through your mirror and then stalked your singing videos online for hours_ and have it not sound creepy. He settles on, “We talked about it, remember? You and I were both in our high school glee clubs.”

 

Kurt’s expression thaws a bit, but his brow is still furrowed. “We talked about Glee Club? I don’t remember that.”

 

“Well, just in passing,” amends Blaine. It could be true, even if neither one of them remembers it. They talk about a lot of things over morning coffee.

 

“You sing?” Kurt asks. And now they are talking about it, and everything is okay, and Blaine can breathe again. But Kurt still declines the invitation to the karaoke bar. “I told you, I’m not interested in dating.”

 

“It’s not a date. It would be strictly platonic,” Blaine insists. “Besides, why are you so against dating?”

 

“Long story,” says Kurt as he slides out of the booth. “I’m busy tomorrow night. But I’ll see you for coffee on Monday.”

 

 

**July 1, 2022**

 

Blaine keeps telling himself that he intends to bury his temptation under layers of drywall and paint at the first opportunity. He tells himself that the problem is that he frequently runs into Kurt when he is going in or out of his door, and Kurt might catch him with a bunch of drywall and ask about it. But he can’t seem to go more than two nights before he slides the dresser away from the wall and peaks through the mirror once more.  Kurt isn’t always in front of his mirror, but sometimes Blaine sees him on the sofa, flipping through Vogue or Interior Design, talking on the phone, or even watching television. One particularly satisfying time, Blaine sees Kurt in his yoga pants and a tank top, stretching and bending in a delicious display. Blaine jumps in the shower and jerk himself roughly under the hot spray after that particular episode of the Kurt Hummel show.

 

At least Kurt has stopped asking about the wallpaper, seemingly satisfied with Blaine’s lie about a marked up wall that he has supposedly already painted over. However, Kurt does keep hinting heavily that he would be happy to help Blaine add some finesse to his decorating. Blaine is running out of excuses for why he won’t allow Kurt into his apartment. He loves spending time with Kurt, but he is grateful that Kurt is going out of town next week so he can complete his construction project without worrying about Kurt seeing or hearing something suspicious.

 

In an effort to prove to himself that his desire to permanently cover the one-way mirror is earnest, Blaine begins writing a list of what he needs to purchase at the hardware store. That night he convinces himself to go into the closet under the pretext of measuring the space to determine how much drywall he needs. Never mind that this task isn’t really necessary and that even if it was, he could certainly complete it after Kurt leaves next weekend.

 

As soon as he opens the closet door, all thoughts of the tape measure in his hand are forgotten. Kurt is mesmerizing, even when all he is doing is carrying the mail over to the coffee table. It doesn’t help that he is wearing skin-tight pants today. Blaine finds himself staring at Kurt’s pert ass as it is hugged by those oh-so-tight gray pants. And, oh God, now he’s bending over the table, ass straining against the pants and pointing straight at Blaine’s line of vision as he spreads his mail on the table, finally picking out a large manila envelope that he rips open with a flourish. The envelope contains a spool of gold-hued thread. Kurt disappears into the bedroom. Blaine is just starting to lift up the tarp when Kurt bounds back into view, carrying a bundle of cloth. After a few more trips to and from the bedroom, Kurt has a sewing machine, scissors, and a sketch book. The book is not at the best angle, but from what Blaine can see, Kurt is looking at a pencil drawing of an elaborate suit coat. _Did he draw that himself? Does he design and sew his own clothes? God, is there nothing Kurt can’t do?_

 

Blaine watches for hours, transfixed as Kurt transforms the bundle of cloth into a stunning suit coat. He is finally startled out of his trance by a phone call from his brother. He puts his earpiece in, mutes his phone and listens to Cooper drone on about his latest audition while he walks around the apartment getting ready for bed. He shuts the closet door, but doesn’t bother to put the dresser in front of the door. He gives occasional monosyllabic responses to encourage Cooper in his monologue while he searches Vogue online for men’s fashion trends. He could have sworn he saw a similar jacket to Kurt’s design in one of the issues last fall. _Ah-ha. It was a Vivienne Westwood. _

 

 

**July 2, 2022**

 

“That suit coat is amazing, Kurt. It reminds me a little of this Vivienne Westwood I saw on a Vogue blog last fall, but it’s not that exactly. It’s even better,” Blaine gushes enthusiastically as they walk to the coffee shop.

 

Kurt beams and asks, “Really, you think it looks like a Vivienne Westwood?”

 

“A little, but it’s better. It’s the most incredible piece of clothing I’ve ever seen. And it fits you so perfectly. Did you get it tailored?”

 

Blaine realizes he is laying it on a little thick, but Kurt is smiling shyly and looking at the sidewalk as they walk and it makes his heart flutter to know he can make Kurt feel good about his talents. Kurt stays silent, but his smile grows.

 

“No – you mean – you didn’t tailor it yourself, did you? You can do that?” Blaine continues. Kurt looks right at him, smiling widely, eyes wrinkling and two tiny rows of pearly teeth on display. Blaine loves seeing Kurt smile like this. Usually he is careful to smile only with his lips. He says he’s embarrassed by how small his teeth are, but Blaine thinks he looks adorable. Kurt still hasn’t said anything, but he is clearly pleased with the compliments.

 

“Where did you get it? I’m not sure if I can afford it, but I might just have to bite the bullet and get something by the same designer. I really love it,” Blaine continues.

 

Kurt is blushing now and says, “Um…well. You might be able to get a discount…”

 

Blaine stops in the middle of the sidewalk stares at him with an incredulous look. “No way, Kurt. You mean, you made this? Oh my God, you really are perfect!”

 

Kurt laughs and says, “Stop, stop. You’re embarrassing me. I’m not really a designer. I just copy things I like from some of my favorite designers and add some flair and personal style here and there. And you’re right on the money. I did base this one on a Vivienne Westwood design from last fall. But seriously, if you really like it I’m sure I could make something for you sometime.”

 

“That would be amazing,” Blaine says, his face starting to ache from all the smiling but he doesn’t care.

 

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, since you brought this up before. There’s a great karaoke place right in the neighborhood. You were right about that. We should totally go. Are you free the Saturday after the Fourth of July weekend?”

 

Over coffee they talk about their favorite bands and past karaoke experiences. Blaine mentions that he writes his own songs. Kurt says he once auditioned for the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, but fell into interior design when that didn’t work out. Kurt walks Blaine to the train station and they sing a few bars of Perfect together after Blaine confesses to once having a thing for the cleaned up version of Pink songs.

 

It takes Blaine all day to come down from the high of spending time with Kurt. That night he lies awake for hours, staring in the direction of the ceiling and wondering if violating Kurt’s privacy is worth it if it allows him to say something that makes Kurt happy.

 

**July 5, 2022**

Blaine spends July 4th in Manhattan with his friend Mike, a physical therapist at the hospital, and his fiancée Tina. He dutifully follows them to a series of parties that starts with a picnic in Central Park and continues through progressively more heavily alcoholic drinks at three different Upper East Side apartments before ending at a smoky rooftop fireworks watching party where Blaine got stoned and makes out with a tall guy with chestnut hair and blue eyes who is a wonderful kisser, but has the distinct disadvantage of not being Kurt. All the guests spend the night sprawled across couches, pillows and the plush living room rug.

 

 

 

The next day, Blaine finally returns to the hardware store. By the evening, he has the new doorknob with the lock installed on the closet door, all his clothes neatly hung up, sheets of drywall leaning against the back wall behind the clothes, and paint and painting supplies stacked in the corner. Blaine spends most of the next day telling himself that now that he has all the materials in the apartment and the lock on the closet door to keep everything safe from prying eyes, he can actually put up the drywall any time.

 

On his way home from the grocery story that afternoon, Blaine walks through a temporary flea market set up on the block before his house. When he sees the low wooden bench with the padded seat, he immediately pays the full asking price. He keeps his mind carefully blank as he sets the bench in the closet opposite the one-way mirror.

 

 

**January 30, 2023**

 

Blaine is sitting on a folding chair in a dim room, watching a community theatre production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Blaine greatly prefers musicals and modern plays to Shakespeare, but he is here to support Kurt, who is playing a servant of one of the main characters. Kurt is doing an amazing job. The servant role includes a lot of searing wit and biting commentary and Kurt is playing the role with the perfect amount of pomp and flair. Even when he is just standing off to the side of the stage, he pulls focus. And one advantage to Shakespeare is the plethora of amazing costumes. Kurt’s is no exception. He is wearing tight white pants with knee high leather lace-up boots and a flowing peasant shirt tucked in to the pants. The shirt hangs low, revealing a wide swatch of Kurt’s toned chest.

 

The other actors do a fair enough job, but Blaine finds his thoughts wandering when Kurt is not actually on the stage. It is Saturday night – the second performance of the play. He missed opening night because he had to work late on Friday. Of course, Friday would not have been as good a day to see the play anyway because Kurt had the cast party to attend immediately after the curtain closed. Blaine is glad that after this second performance, Kurt has no plans other than to go back home and hang out with his good friend and neighbor in one of their apartments.

 

During the final curtain call, Blaine jumps up and hoots and cheers and claps wildly as Kurt bows. He has no problem hamming it up and Blaine’s over-the-top cheering encourages the entire crowd to increase the volume of their applause and catcalls. Still embodying the servant from the play, Kurt blows a kiss directly at him and Blaine’s heart skips a beat. He waits a few minutes to allow the casual viewers to leave before joining the small crowd close to the stage waiting for the actors to emerge. He grips a small bouquet of red and yellow roses behind his back.

 

When Kurt heads out the stage door, he is still wearing his full costume but has scraped off most of his stage makeup. Blaine presents the bouquet with a flourish and Kurt puts a hand over his heart and gives Blaine a huge smile and a quick hug. “Let me say goodbye to everyone and then we can head home. These are lovely, would you hold them for me for a minute?” he mumbles quickly into Blaine’s shoulder, giving back the bouquet temporarily and then he’s off, flitting from one actor to the other saying his goodbyes. Blaine leans against the stage content to wait for his friend.

 

Blaine scrolls through messages on his phone, responding to texts he received yesterday from Mike and Wes. After a few minutes, he looks up and sees that a very tall, broad man with black hair flecked with gray at his temples is speaking animatedly to Kurt, gesturing broadly and leaning in with a broad smile. Kurt’s back is to Blaine, but Blaine doesn’t need to see Kurt’s face to read the telltale tension as his shoulders rise up toward his ears. The man is leaning closer now, eyes running up and down Kurt’s body and when his hand brushes Kurt’s thigh, Kurt stiffens and starts to back away. The other guy is reaching out a hand toward Kurt’s shoulder now and that’s the breaking point. Blaine sidles up to Kurt and puts an arm around his waist. “Hey babe,” he says to Kurt. Gesturing at the other guy he asks, “Who’s your friend?”

 

Glaring between the two of them, the other guy says, “I was just leaving.” As he walks past, he mutters sullenly, “You could have just told me you had a boyfriend.”

 

As soon as the other guy is out of sight, Blaine releases Kurt from the hold around his waist and Kurt puts a few feet of distance between them. “Believe it or not, I was handling that,” Kurt says petulantly.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Blaine responds amicably. “I’m just getting hungry and I have some lovely chicken pesto wraps waiting for us in my apartment.”

 

“All right then, good sir. Lead the way,” Kurt says with an exaggerated British accent, linking his arm through Blaine’s.

 

“Seriously, though,” Blaine begins once they are sitting on the subway car. “That guy was good-looking. Distinguished. Maybe he was coming on a bit strong, but don’t you ever think about going out – or even just hooking up?” Blaine certainly hasn’t ever seen Kurt bring anyone to his apartment. And he spends most of his time either working, at his apartment or with Blaine. Blaine would know – he watches Kurt through the one-way mirror almost every day.

 

Kurt stretches his lips into a grimace. “Nah, I’m not interested. You know, I used to believe in soul mates and romance and all that crap. Then I had a few pretty awful quote-unquote relationships, some even worse hook-ups and a bunch of creeps and scumbags throwing themselves at me. All of that kind of soured me to the whole dating thing. And sure, I could just go out and find someone random to have sex, but it just isn’t as good when its just bodies moving around and getting each other off. I mean, most of that I can do for myself. And I don’t really want to throw myself around.”

 

Blaine struggles to keep his face carefully neutral as he thinks about all the times he’s seen Kurt ‘doing for himself’ in front of his mirror. And boy, does he. Blaine has even tried copying some of Kurt’s moves and found them quite enjoyable. And Blaine always pays close attention to what gives Kurt the most pleasure. He hopes someday he will have the chance to use that knowledge if he can ever convince Kurt to move their relationship beyond the boundary of just friends.

 

However, Blaine does not share Kurt’s discipline or chastity. Occasionally he goes out to a club or a bar on his own, usually straight after work, and picks up a stranger. He always goes to their place because he doesn’t want a repeat of that first morning after when Kurt caught him saying goodbye to the guy in his boxer shorts in the hallway. He has taken to keeping a supply of condoms and lube in his locker at the hospital for these periodic trysts.  
 

Blaine expects Kurt will disappear into his own apartment to change but Kurt instead follows right behind Blaine, pleading his own hunger. “Chicken pesto is one of my all time favorites.”

 

“I know, that’s why I made it for your big second night as a Shakespeare star,” says Blaine, pulling out the plates.

 

They bring their plates to the couch to eat and Kurt entertains Blaine with tales of all the backstage disasters from last night and tonight. They are drinking red wine out of ridiculously large, stem-less glasses that Blaine found at a yard sale last month. Blaine has only had a few sips, but Kurt is already half-way through with his second full glass when he turns suddenly serious.

 

“You know, if I ever were to date again, it would have to be someone good. Someone I can rely on. Someone I can be friends with,” Kurt says out of the blue. Blaine’s heart is racing. Blaine is wishing so hard to hear the next words that at first he thinks it is a figment of his imagination when he hears Kurt continue with, “Someone like you – you’re so good, so kind.” But the words are real and if this were a movie it would be Blaine’s cue to capture Kurt’s lips with his as the music swells triumphantly in the background.

 

Instead, Blaine is hit with an intense wave of guilt. _This is life, not a movie. Messy, dirty, shameful life. And if this was a movie it would not be a romantic comedy but some sort of twisted porno with me in the peeping-Tom role._ He hears the words before he even realizes he is going to say them. “I’m not good or kind.”

 

“What do you mean? Of course you are. You’re such a great friend. A great person. And you get me in a way no one else does.” Kurt insists, looking into Blaine’s eyes intently.

 

_Oh God, Kurt. I think I love you, and I know I want you, and you have no idea how not good I am. I am the utter opposite of a ‘great person’. _But this time, Blaine says nothing. Instead, he stays completely still, barely even breathing as Kurt continues to gaze deep into his eyes. He lets Kurt lean closer and closer until he can feel Kurt’s breath against his lips. Blaine doesn’t know what he’s praying for harder – for Kurt to just close the distance and press his heavenly lips to Blaine’s or for the earth to open and swallow him up to burn in a special hell reserved for lying, cheating peeping Tom neighbors like him. _Forget hell, I choose heaven._ Blaine licks his lips and leans forward, mouth slightly open and hand snaking into Kurt’s hair to draw him closer. Blaine’s hand in his hair breaks the trance and Kurt jumps up, nearly slamming his chest into Blaine’s face in his haste to reach his feet. In two strides he is at the door. 

 

“I’m drunk and stupid – just ignore me. Thanks for dinner,” he calls as he throws the door open. Just as suddenly, the door closes behind him and he’s gone.

 

_Fuck_ , Blaine thinks stupidly and rubs first at his face and then at his hair, wondering what he did wrong. Then begins his nightly ritual of debating with himself about right and wrong, but it’s not long before he fishes the key out of his desk drawer and unlocks the closet, leaving the key in the lock in case Kurt comes back and knocks at the front door. He knows he’s weak, but he can’t help it. He is an addict and watching Kurt is his drug.

 

Kurt is standing in front of the mirror, watching himself with smoky eyes as he slowly and deliberately pulls the peasant shirt up and over his head, revealing his pale, toned stomach inch by inch. Knowing he was in for a good show, Blaine settles onto the bench to watch.

 

Kurt runs his hands up and down his sides, stretching languidly and alternately flexing his pecs and his biceps. He sticks a finger from each hand into his mouth and sucks obscenely for a moment before tracing back down to his nipples, leaving wet trails on his skin as his nipples harden. Blaine feels the blood rush to his cock as he imagines tracing that same path from neck to chest to nipples with his mouth, flecking a nipple with his tongue. He palms his hard cock and thinks about Kurt’s luscious mouth stretched around his fingers sucking them in and making them wet before moving down to envelop his aching cock.

 

Kurt’s lips are moving – he’s murmuring words and Blaine can’t quite hear them through the wall. He wishes he could read lips, but soon gives up trying. As much as he would love to hear Kurt, he also enjoys supplying the words from his own imagination. _Mmmm, feels so good. Touch me, stroke me. That’s it. Oh, God, Blaine. I want you so bad._

Kurt turns his ass to the mirror and looks over his shoulder mouth open and still talking as he bends over deliberately, sticking his ass out and rubs a cheek with each hand through the white pants. _Come on, baby. Put your hands on me. Wrap your body around me. I want to feel you all over._

Then Kurt is stretching a bit too far and he stumbles forward a bit, pulling open a drawer in the side table and reaching in his hand, feeling around before he pulls out a dark blue cylinder.  Blaine’s eyes widen and he presses a palm against his hard cock and gasps as he realizes what exactly is in Kurt’s hand. _Oh my God – I sat right there in that living room next to that drawer and I had no idea that was in there… _Blaine thinks, but all thoughts stop when Kurt opens his mouth wide and plunges the blue dildo in and out swiftly, pausing to suck hard at the tip. Kurt faces the mirror now and licks a stripe up and down the dildo, eyes looking up and meeting his own in the mirror. He smiles around the dildo before sucking it in deep, hollowing out his cheeks and closing his eyes in pleasure before opening them again. Blaine unzips his pants and fishes out his cock, matching the speed of his strokes to the speed Kurt uses to pump the dildo in and out of his stretched lips – tantalizing slowly, then a few fast pumps, then slow again. Blaine’s mouth is watering and he takes the opportunity to lick his hand thoroughly, sighing at the smoother slide when he wraps his hand around his throbbing dick once more.

 

Still sucking obscenely on the dildo, Kurt strides out of view and is gone for long moments. Blaine’s hand on his dick stills and he pleads silently, _Come back, come back, come back, come back – Yes!_ Kurt is back in the room with a bundled towel in his arms. The blue dildo is still protruding from his lips as he sucks on it lightly, absently as he bends over to unlace his tall, tight boots. Kurt drops the dildo onto the towel and sits down to pull off the boots. In one swift motion he stands, unzips, and shimmies out of the pants, his half hard cock springing free. _He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He was sitting here with me, leaning in, about to kiss me, and he wasn’t wearing underwear._ Blaine’s dick twitches at the thought and Blaine licks his palm again before gripping his length and squeezing it lightly, gently as he drinks in the site of Kurt’s swiftly growing erection.

 

Then Kurt is dragging the side table with the drawers closer to the mirror and laying the towel on the rug beside it and Blaine wonders for a moment if Kurt has switched from secret porn star to neurotic furniture mover. But then Kurt produces another dildo from the folds of the towel and is securing it to the side of the table. This one is larger and flesh-colored, with a shape that more closely resembles a dick. Kurt positions it so it points straight out at the height of his mouth as he positions himself on hands and knees at an angle to the mirror. Kurt’s tongue darts out and he gives the dildo an experimental lick. It bobs a bit but holds fast to the side of the table. Kurt glances at the mirror, but seems unsatisfied and soon springs to his feet and disappears again. Even though Blaine knows he is coming back this time, it is still torturous to wait and wonder what Kurt may have found wanting and what he would bring with him when he returns. Blaine almost laughs out loud as he pictures Kurt leaving and returning an unending series of ever larger dildos.

 

But when Kurt returns, arms straining under the weight of a free-standing vanity mirror, Blaine dick twitches again in anticipation. Kurt sets the mirror on the coffee table and angles it downward. This time when he positions himself on his hands and knees on the towel, Kurt is facing the vanity mirror with a perfect view of his ass reflected in the mirror on the wall.

 

Kurt stretches his mouth wide around the larger dildo, looking up to meet his own eyes in the vanity mirror. His gaze shifts to a higher spot on the vanity mirror and now he is watching his ass in the mirror behind him. Still licking and sucking at the suspended dildo like a starving man, Kurt shuffles his legs wider apart and grabs the bottle of lube from the towel beneath him. Blaine notices the blue dildo on the towel and his balls tighten in anticipation as he imagines what Kurt might do with both dildos at once.

 

Kurt spreads his legs further and arches his back, rubbing his ass up and down against his outstretched fingers that are dripping with lube. He releases the dildo from his mouth for a moment to throw his head back and groan as two fingers breaches his entrance. Opening his mouth to the dildo in front of him again, Kurt rocks back and forth, lips stretching and sucking over the dildo in front of him and his asshole stretching around his fingers behind him. His balls and rock hard cock swing back and forth as he fucks himself between the flesh-colored dildo and his fingers.

 

With the angle of the two mirrors, Blaine can see everything and it is glorious. His hand is flying up and down his own aching cock, a little dry and sore now, but Blaine doesn’t want to stop for more saliva or to search for his own lube.

 

Never pausing in his sucking and licking and moaning around the flesh-colored dildo, Kurt pulls his fingers out of his hole and coats the blue dildo generously with lube. Eyes flicking between his mouth and his ass, Kurt watches himself suck on the one dildo while slowly pumping the other in and out of his ass. Blaine can hear Kurt’s muffled moans and groans faintly through the wall. He leans down and spits over his hand and cock and nearly cries out from the relief and he thumbs over the head and mixes the saliva with his pre-cum for a smoother slide.

 

Kurt is holding his hand still now, slamming his body furiously forward and back as he chases his pleasure. Straining to shift his weight back on his knees, he lifts his other hand to the dildo in front of his and gives both his hand and the dildo broad licks, pumping the other dildo in and out of his ass. Then the hand behind him stills again and he’s straining backwards, weight on his knees, jerking his body back and forth between the two dildos. Kurt closes his hand over his cock and throws his head back and screams in a wordless shout as his body spasms and cum shoots into the towel below him.

 

Blaine grips his dick hard and points it right at Kurt’s twitching hole. He pumps twice more before he stills and his cum splatters onto the window in front of him, dripping down and obscuring his view of Kurt’s naked body lying facedown, spent on the rug, legs spread wide and blue dildo still protruding from between his stretched cheeks. Blaine leans against the wall of his closet, panting and wondering whether he needs a special cleaner to avoid damaging the one-way mirror glass.

 

Blaine waits until Kurt peels himself from the floor and stumbles in the direction of the bedroom before attempting any cleaning. A quick Google search reveals nothing useful, so he scrubs gently at the surface with a soapy washcloth. After that he shuts the closet door and spends the next forty-five minutes inventing excuses to get himself into Kurt’s apartment so he can check the mirror and make sure that Kurt still can’t see through his side of it. He spends another twenty minutes wondering just how bad it will be in that special part of hell that he just knows is reserved for him. _Yes, I am the utter opposite of a great person,_ Blaine thinks again just before he drifts off to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First note: My heart goes out to Cory’s family, friends and loved ones, all of the Glee cast and all of us fans who have been grieving his untimely passing. I hope all of you are taking good care of yourselves and each other. 
> 
> Second note: Thank you so much gigi42 for all of your help as beta for this chapter. The story is much better for it! Check out http://gigi42.livejournal.com for some excellent stories.

**July 10, 2022**

Kurt returns from his trip on Sunday night, but it's not until Thursday that Blaine sees him in person. He has, of course, seen Kurt several times through the mirror. He mostly caught Kurt doing mundane tasks like sorting mail or watching television. But he did see another yoga session and another time watched for several long minutes as Kurt drew in his sketchpad with long, purposeful strokes.

"Hey there, neighbor! Long time no see," Blaine calls out before he even reaches Kurt's booth at the coffee shop. _Or at least, it's been a long time since you saw me,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully as Kurt looks up from his magazine with a smile.

"How was your Fourth?" Kurt asks. Filling him in on some of the highlights from the party, Blaine quickly shifts the conversation to Kurt’s trip, letting his neighbor relay some of his stepbrother's antics and a sweet story about his father and step-mother dancing to big-band music at the local fireworks show. When he mentions a reunion of sorts with members of his glee club who were in town, Blaine remembers something they discussed right before Kurt left.

"I hope you practiced some songs with your glee club friends, because I still intend to hold you to that promise to do karaoke with me." Blaine smiles teasingly and touches Kurt's arm.

Kurt flinches slightly, but smoothes his features into a slight smile and says, "Of course. And I will wipe the floor with you with my singing skills."

"Oh, is this a competition now?"

"It sure is."

Blaine smiles at Kurt, his heart fluttering. He aches to takes Kurt's hand, but he doesn't dare.

**July 15, 2022**

Ever since that Saturday night at the karaoke bar, which started as a mostly-friendly competition between them for the loudest cheers and quickly turned into a very friendly quest to find the best duets to highlight their complementary ranges, Kurt has appeared at his door every morning to walk together to the coffee shop. Blaine's favorite part of these walks is when they are still in the narrow hallway in front of their apartment doors. Blaine feels electric jolts every time their arms brush and he can just faintly catch the vanilla scent of Kurt's shampoo. But as soon as they reach the stairwell, Kurt steps to the side, widening the distance between them.

This morning, after making fun of Kurt for yet again trying to peer past him into the apartment as he slides out the door, Blaine finally invites Kurt to drop by and check out the décor. _Wow, that sounded much less sleazy in my head,_ Blaine thinks. But Kurt doesn't seem to notice any innuendo so Blaine relaxes a bit.

"Oh yes!" Kurt squeaks, clapping his hands together and bouncing up and down in his seat in delight. "Can I see it tonight?"

Kurt's enthusiasm is contagious and Blaine can't help but laugh. "Sure. I'll be home by six. We could order a pizza."

"No need for that. I have an excellent stir-fry recipe I'm just dying to try out. I'll bring it over once it's all cooked."

"Okay. But I'm going to have to start cooking for you one of these days, or I'll feel forever in your debt. I've been told I make an excellent chicken pesto," Blaine says with a smile.

"Mmm. That sounds good, too. I'll definitely let you cook next time." Kurt is already scooting out of the booth and Blaine suppresses a pained sigh that it is time to leave the brightest spot of his day and head off to work.

Luckily the hospital is busy and the work day sails by. Soon Blaine is on the subway, tapping his foot impatiently and hoping he has enough time to make sure the closet is locked and the key hidden before Kurt knocks on his door. And enough time to change clothes. _Maybe something tight and black would attract Kurt's attention._

An hour later, Blaine feels silly for putting on a sexy outfit, dimming the lights and setting his ipod to his "romantic mood" playlist. Kurt doesn't seem to notice these efforts. In fact, with the exception of the potholder mittens he is wearing when he carries a steaming pot of aromatic food into Blaine's kitchen, Kurt is all business.

He waltzes around the apartment, appraising each piece of furniture and the sparse smattering of posters and prints on the walls with a critical eye. Blaine follows him from room to room, babbling explanations for his poor decorating skills. "The furniture is all hand-me-downs from my parents' storage unit…", "I don't really have a lot of artwork yet…", "…my artistic skills are really limited to music…"

When they reach the bedroom, Kurt swings around to face him. "Stop putting yourself down. Hand-me-down furniture is great, especially when it's solid wood like what you have here. It would be really expensive to try to buy stuff of this quality, especially in New York. Trust me, I find the greatest pieces at yard sales. And I'm glad that not everyone is a whiz at interior design. Otherwise I'd be out of a job."

Blaine huffs out the breath he'd been holding in a relieved laugh. "Thanks. I was pretty nervous about what you would think."

"Now it makes sense that you worked so hard to keep me out of here for so long," Kurt laughs. "I was beginning to wonder if you were hiding dead bodies in here." Kurt grabs the handle to the closet door and Blaine has to stop himself from throwing himself between Kurt and the metal knob. "Is this the closet? Oh, it won't open." Kurt is rattling the handle now and shoving at it.

"It's just the closet. It's locked," Blaine says, trying to keep his voice even. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears. "Nothing interesting in there."

"Now I'm really going to think you're hiding dead bodies in here. Why would you lock your closet door? I mean, you do a better job than most guys I know at dressing yourself, but if you have any $500 suits in your wardrobe, I certainly haven't seen them," Kurt teases.

 _Oh God. Why didn't I think of a good cover story for locking the door? Think, think, think._ Kurt's smile is starting to fade as he stares at Blaine, waiting for an answer. "O-kay," Kurt says slowly, starting to back away. His posture has changed. Everything about him seems stiff, alert and ready to bolt. "Maybe I should go?"

"Safe!" Blaine blurts out, desperate to keep Kurt from disappearing on him again. It's the first word to come to his head. He wants Kurt to feel safe with him and it is clear that Kurt, with his sad history with neighbors, does not trust him. But as he says this word and sees Kurt watch him warily, he realizes this is the perfect cover story for the locked door. "I mean, I lock the closet because I find it easier to use than having a safe. You know, for important papers? Protect against identity theft and all."

Blaine realizes he is babbling, but he can't help it now, the words keep flowing out of him seemingly against his will. "It's so easy for someone to steal your identity. So many documents we get in the mail have our social security numbers or bank account numbers on them. You know – credit card applications, bank statements, health insurance statements." Kurt's posture is just beginning to relax a bit. Encouraged, Blaine continues. "I used to have one of those safes you can buy at the hardware store, but it was just too small to fit all the files I wanted to keep in there. And the combination locks are so hard to use. I just – this is so much better." He finishes with a gesture toward the door.

Kurt looks between Blaine and the locked door. "That, um, actually sounds like a good idea. I just keep all my papers in my desk. It's not locked up or anything."

"Well, I could help you put a lock on your closet door if you want. I had to buy a power tool to change out the doorknob. I still have it, so…" Blaine smiles at Kurt, hoping he looks completely innocent.

Kurt laughs, fully relaxed once more. "Yeah, I think I'll need to find another solution. There's no way I can fit anything else into my closet. I already had to get a free-standing wardrobe for the bedroom so my clothes wouldn't wrinkle."

"Really? I mean, I know you take your clothes seriously and you seem to have quite a stunning collection, but you really don't have room for a few files when you have a wardrobe and a walk-in closet?" Blaine asks incredulously.

Blaine realizes his mistake as soon as Kurt's expression shifts to a mix of excitement and envy. "That's a walk-in closet?" Kurt practically squeals. "Oh my God! I would kill for one of those. I didn't know any of the apartments in this building had walk-in closets! You have to show me!"

 _Oh shit. Me and my damn big mouth. How am I going to get out of this one?_ Blaine runs through a few options in his mind, and settles on caution as an explanation Kurt might understand. "Um. Look – I really like getting to know you as a neighbor and a friend. But you can probably tell that I'm pretty concerned about keeping my personal effects safe. I don't want to offend you, but…I don't really feel comfortable letting you in there. Is that okay?" Blaine rubs the back of his head and looks down on the floor for much of this speech, chancing quick glances up at Kurt to gage his reaction.

Kurt's face is a mask of sympathy. "Oh, don't worry. I completely understand. I'm sorry to be so pushy about it. I just got excited. I totally want to have a walk-in closet in my next apartment."

"Yeah, I was told it was one of the main selling features of the place. It's a bit wasted on me, though. I would much rather have a good view instead of all these buildings." Blaine says breathily, shaky with relief. He is pretty sure that discovering the one way mirror would horrify Kurt far more than if there actually were dead bodies hidden in the closet.

"Oh – I have a great view from my bedroom window. It's really the best feature of my apartment. That and the mirror of course," says Kurt breezily.

"Right," Blaine says to the floor, avoiding Kurt's eyes.

"You know, with your spacious closet and my amazing view, we could have the perfect apartment," Kurt laughs.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Blaine says, leading the way back to the kitchen. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor as his mind unhelpfully supplies, _my closet already has an amazing view._

Kurt's stir fry is delicious. Blaine savors each bite, thankful for the distraction from the near disaster over the locked closet. Kurt is already bursting with ideas for re-designing Blaine's apartment. Blaine is mostly content to enjoy the food and watch Kurt bubble with excitement.

"Once you agree to a theme, you'll have to give me a budget," Kurt says excitedly. "Then I can start searching for pieces that would work for your space."

Blaine loves to see the passion in Kurt's eyes, but he realizes he needs to stop this from getting out of control. "The budget is next to nothing, I'm afraid. And I don't want you to waste your time on my measly little apartment. I can barely afford any more furniture or art, so it's not like I could actually hire you."

Kurt looks horrified, and Blaine runs back over his words, hoping he didn't say anything too offensive. "No! I mean, I didn't expect you to pay me or anything. God, what kind of friend would that make me?"

"That's so nice of you, Kurt, really. But I can't let you do something like that for me for free," Blaine insists.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I love designing a space, especially on a tight budget. Poking through yard sales to find inexpensive treasures is so fun! And it wouldn't take any extra time. I go to yard sales for work all the time. I'll just keep an eye out for you while I'm working for my paying clients."

"Well, if it's really not too much trouble…" Blaine says hesitantly.

"No trouble at all." Kurt looks into the distance thoughtfully for a moment, chewing. Then he looks at Blaine, beaming. "There's an amazing flea market right in this neighborhood at the end of the month. You should come with me."

Blaine smiles and readily agrees. After all, he's happy to spend a few dollars on flea market art if it means spending more time with Kurt.

**July 30, 2022**

Blaine grins at the large brass plate hanging over the television in his living room. It has an intricate abstract design that somewhat resembles interlocking vines. It is the latest acquisition Kurt has found for him. Blaine had his doubts when they first spotted it at the community flea market, but Kurt can be very persuasive. And as soon as Kurt had hung the plate on the wall, Blaine could see that it did work perfectly in his apartment.

The community flea market was last weekend and Blaine had had a blast – at least up until the end of the day. Watching Kurt hunt intensely through the clutter of items at the various tables set out along the street, Blaine felt that telltale stomach flip that he knew meant he was falling hard and fast for this man. This talented, sexy man who, for all intents and purposes, was available. Or at least should be. But for some reason Kurt seemed to be off limits.

It was late in the day when Kurt found the brass plate. Blaine was content to browse lazily through the tables a few steps behind Kurt, flipping casually through merchandise with one hand. His other arm was piled high with items Kurt had found for various clients. He didn't mind carrying things for Kurt. Kurt was the one who really needed his hands free to browse in earnest. Also, it helped fuel Blaine's daydream that they were on a date. Carrying his partner's purchases had always seemed like such an intimate act.

Kurt had gasped when he saw the plate. He poked Blaine's arm and gushed about how perfect it would be in his apartment. Blaine was doubtful, but he didn't want to dampen Kurt's enthusiasm, so he played along. When the seller returned from helping a customer at another table, Kurt's features had morphed to instant indifference. Blaine watched with fascination as Kurt used his acting skills masterfully to bargain for a better price.

It wasn't until he handed Blaine his change that the man recognized him. "Oh, it's you again. It's good you brought your friend here to bargain for you. I remember you paid full price for that bench earlier this month."

"Bench? I don't remember a bench in your apartment," Kurt said thoughtfully at the same time as Blaine yelped out, "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have me confused with someone else."

"I always remember faces," the man said, tapping the side of his forehead with one finger.

"Well, you're wrong this time," Blaine insisted. He tugged at Kurt's arm with his free hand, urging him away. "Come on, we better go. I don't think I can manage to carry anything else."

"Where would you even fit a bench in your apartment?" Kurt had asked.

Blaine had shrugged his shoulders and traced a circle in the air next to his forehead. "Welcome to New York City – land of the crazies," he laughed nervously.

Now as Blaine still gazes at the brass plate in his living room, he frowns at the memory of deceiving Kurt once more. But he smiles again when his gaze lands on the locked closet door. He had been so good lately. He hadn't watched Kurt in the mirror for almost two weeks now. He had spotted a few tempting glimpses of his long-limbed neighbor while grabbing clothes from the closet in the mornings or evenings, but he had forced himself to simply look away again.

He knows he should put up that drywall, but he just can't bring himself to do it. It seems too permanent. Alone in his apartment, Kurt is so relaxed and vibrant – carefree in a way he never allows himself in public. And through the mirror, Blaine can drink in his fill of Kurt’s poise and beauty in a way he never could in person. Blaine likes to think of himself as a good guy and he knows that good guys don’t violate their neighbors’ privacy. But something twists in his stomach at the thought of giving up his unfettered view permanently. He knows at least in part it is because Kurt is so guarded that Blaine feels like he is constantly walking on eggshells, waiting for Kurt to pull the plug on their friendship. _What if I offend him and he won’t talk with me anymore? If I put up that drywall I’ll have no other way to see him._

Sighing, Blaine puts off thinking about the drywall for another day. He has a good excuse. Work was frustrating and he is exhausted. Almost all of his patients were screamers today. In one particularly trying case, a little girl would not respond to music of any kind. He had stayed well past his shift trying to make progress. Even though it is only nine thirty, he heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he reaches the bedroom and sheds his clothing in favor of boxers and an undershirt, he hears faint music coming from Kurt's apartment. _Is that Beyonc_ é _?_ He presses his ear to the wall and listens. _Definitely Beyonc_ é _,_ he thinks as, "All the single ladies, all the single ladies," drifts through the wall.

He argues with himself for only a minute before his curiosity wins. _I've been so good for so long. I deserve a reward._ And then he's pushing open the door and gasping at the sight that greets him.

There is Kurt, wearing black pants so tight they _must_ be painted on, gyrating hips accented by a belt. Blaine's eyes travel up Kurt's body, drinking in the second skin of black, long-sleeved shirt topped by a snug-fitting, sparkly vest. As he moves to the music, a black tie bounces on his chest. It is tight across his throat. _Like a leash,_ Blaine thinks and whistles low in appreciation.

He can hear the song a bit better through the mirror and he can feel the thump of the bass through the floor. Kurt is keeping perfect time to the beat, shaking his hips, sticking out his ass, slapping himself, and spinning around with flair. His mouth is moving along with the words, but he's not singing. _This is practically pornographic. Oh God, I shouldn't be watching this. Kurt would just die if he knew I was watching this._ But Blaine can't tear his eyes away.

The song nears the end and now Kurt's hips are spinning in fast, erotic circles. Blaine's face heats up with a blush as he notices the distinct bulge in Kurt's crotch. _Does he dance at a strip club on the side?_ But no, that image doesn't mesh with the Kurt that Blaine has been getting to know. No, this must just be a private show he is giving himself in his mirror. Once again, Blaine is hit by sharp pangs of guilt.

All too soon the song ends. Kurt pants slightly, glaring critically at himself in the mirror. He stalks toward the stereo and hits a button, and the song starts up again. Shoving the guilt to the back of his mind, Blaine lowers himself reverently onto the bench he so vehemently denied owning and watches. Blaine feels his cock harden in his boxers, but he tightens his hands into fists and digs them into the cushion on either side of his thighs. _It's bad enough that I'm watching this. I can't jerk off to him, too._ Kurt performs the song a glorious three times before mopping his brow, turning off the stereo and the lights, and heading toward his bedroom.

Blaine looks down at the head of his cock peering out from the slit in his boxers. _Jerking off to a video of your neighbor online isn't as bad as jerking off to him live, is it?_ Blaine rushes to his laptop and pulls up his bookmarks. He clicks Kurt Hummel Sings and scrolls through the site. He is positive he saw something with Single Ladies before. _There it is!_ Blaine clicks on the link, pushing down his boxers and grasping his cock firmly as the video loads. But when the video starts, Blaine drops his erection and recoils from it as from a flame. The video shows Kurt in tight black pants and a sparkly, long sleeved top flanked by two girls in black leotards and bare legs. But the Kurt in this video looks like he is barely fourteen, with soft rosy cheeks and floppy hair. He is performing the same basic dance, but it is much stiffer, much more restrained. More juvenile. _I am such a pervert!_ Blaine's penis retreats back to its resting size. He pulls his underwear back on and lies in bed, feeling exhausted and willing sleep to overtake him and erase his burning guilt.

**August 8, 2022**

Blaine avoids Kurt for a few days, cancelling their morning coffees with the excuse that he needs to get to work early. But he doesn't leave early. Each morning, he waits with his eye pressed up to the peephole, barely daring to breathe until he watches Kurt walk past. Only then does he dare to retrieve clothes from his closet, heart racing irrationally as he glances into Kurt's darkened apartment, as if he expects him to appear at any moment, gyrating his mesmerizing hips. Each morning, Blaine picks up a piece of drywall and holds it up to the window, willing himself to just close off the source of his shame. And each morning, he struggles, and sweats, and hates himself. And then puts the drywall back in its corner with the neglected paint.

He misses Kurt's voice, his face, his smell as they stand side by side in the hallway. Each evening he longs to watch Kurt, even if he is just watching television. But most nights he sits with his back to the outside of the closet door, digging his fingernails into his arms and feeling like he is going to jump out of his skin with need. He spends more than a week living this torturous existence.

Tonight, his new routine is disrupted by a knock at the door. He opens it to reveal Kurt, his stylish outfit overshadowed by his red-rimmed eyes. "You're avoiding me. Did I do something to offend you?" Kurt asks bluntly.

Any embarrassment Blaine may have felt is instantly replaced with concern. "No, not at all. I've just had a different schedule for work this week. Kurt, have you been crying?" he asks, stunned.

"No, my contact lenses are just bothering me."

Blaine is almost certain that Kurt does not wear contact lenses, but he lets his friend preserve his dignity. Blaine's guilt over stealing Kurt's privacy is immediately overtaken by his guilt at giving the impression that he doesn't want Kurt's friendship. In fact, he wants much more from Kurt than that. _If I can just get him to agree to date me, I won't have to watch him through the mirror anymore. And he'll never have to know._

Blaine invites Kurt in and pours him a glass of wine, gesturing to the couch and apologizing profusely for letting his work get in the way of their time together. "I'm so sorry. I should have let you know more about my schedule. I just – I felt a little weird about knocking on your door," Blaine lies. "I mean, I'm glad you knocked on mine," he continues hurriedly when he sees the stricken look on Kurt's face. "It broke the stalemate, you know. We should probably exchange numbers. Then I can text you if my work schedule changes and we can figure out another time to get coffee." Blaine searches Kurt's face carefully for a negative reaction, but Kurt seems relieved. Blaine keeps his face carefully neutral as they exchange numbers, but inwardly he is pumping his fist and grinning. _I just asked for his number! And he's giving it to me!_

"I guess it was silly for me to feel rejected," Kurt admits shyly. "My step-mother works at a hospital and I know the hours can be erratic sometimes."

 _Not so much for music therapists,_ thinks Blaine, but he stays silent in a rare moment of self-preservation.

"I just don't have the greatest history with friendships. Or relationships of any kind, really. Except for my family. We get along great," Kurt continues.

"I completely understand," Blaine says, faking confidence. "I've studied psychology, and you would be amazed at how much of human behavior is driven by a fear of rejection, even when there is absolutely no reason to think you would ever be rejected by someone." _Like with you and me. I will never reject you. And I hope you won't reject me either. I think I’m in love with you already._

"You would think that rejection wouldn't phase me anymore," Kurt is saying. "I’ve experienced it enough in auditions that it shouldn't even register."

"But, I thought you said you've been in plays. You can't have been rejected every time?"

"Yes, I've been in some local community theater productions. Usually I audition for a lead and either get nothing or a small supporting role. So that's still rejection of a sort. But I used to audition on Broadway."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. And you wouldn't believe some of the crazy stuff the directors ask you to do. Sing your song backwards while jumping on one leg and emote that someone has just killed your firstborn before your very eyes." They share a look, laughing together. "Actually, it's not usually that bad, but they can get quite creative in their reasons for why you're just not good enough for their production. I always thought I’d be the one to succeed on Broadway, since I was so much better at handling rejection than Rachel. But I guess Rachel was better at singing and at conforming to whatever the Broadway directors wanted in a role. So she didn't have to handle rejection too much. And now she's a star, just like she always wanted."

Blaine doesn't pay too much attention to the Broadway circuit, but he likes musicals enough to read reviews in the paper, so it only takes him a minute to place the name. After all, there is only one famous Rachel on Broadway right now. "You know Rachel Berry?"

Kurt smiles wistfully. "Ah, of course. You would know who she is, too. That would make her so happy. She always was laser focused on being famous."

"How do you know her?" Blaine asks. He isn't really interested in Rachel, but he does want to know everything he can about Kurt.

"We went to high school together. Sang in Glee club together. For a while we were best friends. We were roommates, too, when I first moved to New York. But things were a bit strained between us even then," Kurt winces at the memory.

Blaine can't imagine anyone letting a friendship with this amazing man slip through their fingers. "What happened?"

Kurt twists his fingers together in his lap and forces an air of nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know. It just got harder and harder to be around her. She is a bit of a diva at the best of times. And then she got into the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts and I didn't. And then she got the Broadway roles and I didn't. I didn't begrudge her the success. Her voice is magnificent and it always has been. But I think it would have been easier for her if I had landed some Broadway roles, too. When I moved out here we started to lose touch." Kurt trailed off for a moment and looked into the distance thoughtfully. "I think she was worried that I would try to get her to use her connections to get me a role or something. But I still can say 'I knew her when', so I guess that's something."

In an effort to build up Kurt's confidence, Blaine says enthusiastically, "But it's good you're not a Broadway star because you love interior design." Kurt nods in acquiescence and smiles. "And you're so good at it," Blaine continues, pleased to see the faint blush appear on Kurt's cheeks. "And you're also a star of the Bronx community theater circuit."

Kurt laughs. "Okay, okay. You win the title of 'official cheerer-up-er of Kurt Hummel’ for the night. But it's a bit too far to call me a star of community theater. Like I said, I get a lot of rejection there, too."

"But it must be a little better," prompts Blaine, resting his chin in his hand.

"Yes, it's great to get a part once in a while," Kurt concedes. "Around here the directors tend to favor long auditions. You give them a monologue, a full song and maybe a line reading and the director keeps a poker face throughout the whole thing. But I think I like the Broadway auditions better. They cut you off after eight bars and shout out 'too short', or 'too tall', or 'too white', or in my case 'too fey' and shoo you out immediately. The rejection is just like ripping off a bandaid. Short, sweet and no days or weeks of wondering whether you'll get the call."

They talk for a while longer, sipping on wine and swapping stories about plays, auditions and show choir competitions. Blaine falls a little more in love with each passing minute.

When Blaine asks Kurt to, "Please give me a chance and let me take you out," and Kurt answers immediately with a blunt, "No,” it feels less like ripping off a bandaid and more like ripping off a piece of his skin. Blaine thinks about what Kurt said that night about different styles of rejection. He thinks he prefers the subtler kind. It allows some room to hope that you still have a chance to change that no to a yes.

 _What spooked you so badly,_ Blaine thinks as Kurt makes his excuses and heads for the door.

**August 10, 2022**

Blaine decides to go back to watching Kurt, telling himself he is just gathering clues about Kurt's life. Ways to connect better with him so that eventually he can get Kurt to date him. _It's harmless_ , he tells himself as he watches Kurt watch a rerun of Grey's Anatomy. The angle of the television doesn't give Blaine a good enough view to figure out exactly what episode Kurt is watching, but he is familiar with the show.

At the coffee shop the next day, Blaine casually asks, "Did you see the Grey's Anatomy episode last night?"

Kurt stiffens visibly and stares at Blaine across the table for a long moment. Cautiously he asks, "There was a Grey's rerun on television last night?"

"Oh, did you not watch it?" Blaine knows Kurt watched it. He saw him watching it, but he doesn't know what else to say. "I – uh – I just thought you mentioned liking that show and I saw it was on last night."

"What channel?" Kurt asks suspiciously.

 _Oh God, why is he interrogating me? And why was I so stupid that I didn't check what channel?_ Running quickly through channel options in his mind, Blaine makes a guess. "Um. Lifetime? I think…"

After a moment of tense silence, Kurt's posture begins to relax. "Oh, yes. I guess they have reruns on that channel all the time. What a weird coincidence, though. I did watch a Grey's, but it was on DVD. You like that show, too?"

"Yeah," Blaine says softly with a relieved smile.

Kurt smiles back and says, "Sorry about my weird reaction. I have to keep reminding myself that you're not Sandy."

"Sandy?"

"Creepy neighbor number one. He was good at guessing what shows or movies I was watching. I figured he was listening with a glass held up to the wall. I wouldn't really put it past that guy to do anything to try to engage me in a conversation." Kurt is smiling as if he is telling a joke, and Blaine feels his own smile twitch as he tries to swallow down his horror. Laughing, Kurt continues. "God, I'm so paranoid. I even started wearing headphones so he couldn't hear it anymore. I was actually grateful that my other creepy neighbor just liked to make generic crude comments about wanting to get in my pants. At least I didn’t have to worry about him spying on my TV time. Anyway, which one were you watching?"

Blaine stares blankly at Kurt for a moment before he realizes that Kurt is asking him about Grey's Anatomy again. "Oh, uh – it was the one with the ferry crash."

"Oh yeah, you mean the one where Alex rescues the pregnant woman who can't remember who she is?"

"Yes – that's right," Blaine says absently, fixing a smile on his face and trying not to think about himself as just another creepy neighbor.

"That one was so sad. All those people waiting to find out if their loved ones lived or died." Kurt pauses for just a moment of respect before pivoting to ask with excitement, "What's your favorite episode?"

Blaine is quickly drawn back into the conversation and soon he and Kurt are chatting merrily about favorite characters and storylines. Blaine decides that seeing Kurt's eyes sparkle with mirth is worth a little guilt over his deception. _It's harmless,_ he thinks as he smiles across the table at Kurt.

**August 13, 2022**

_It's harmless_ , Blaine tells himself as he watches Kurt sort his mail, watch television, stretch a few times, and read magazines. _He never has to know,_ he says as he picks up the latest issues of Vogue and Out on his way to the subway station and flips through them. _Completely harmless,_ he insists as he casually brings up his opinion about this year's Out100 list over coffee. _It's helping us become even better friends,_ he tells himself as Kurt beams and gushes about the details of the Out100.

 _I’m not really doing anything wrong_ , he keeps telling himself as he pulls open the closet door and takes a seat on the bench. Blaine repeats _harmless_ as a mantra that night as Kurt walks up to the mirror and spins slowly before it, twisting his neck to look at his rear. Kurt adjusts his posture, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest. He arches his back slightly and the fabric of his red pants hugs his ass more closely.

 _I’m just looking. It’s not hurting anyone. It’s perfectly harmless,_ Blaine repeats as Kurt faces the mirror and makes a sexy pout, running his hands up and down the sides of his black button-down. Kurt shifts his hips seductively and stares with a burning intensity into the mirror as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing the pale skin beneath inch by inch.

Blaine is frozen to the spot, barely able to breathe as he watches Kurt slowly pull the shirt off of his shoulders before letting it drop to the floor. Blaine drinks in the sight of Kurt’s smooth chest and toned arms. _I shouldn’t be watching this,_ he thinks, squirming on the bench. But he cannot look away as Kurt runs his hands up and down his sides.

Kurt runs one hand through his hair, gripping it and pulling his head back as his other hand trails down his neck, over a beaded nipple, and then down along the v of his hips. Blaine gasps as Kurt brings both hands to his waist. His eyes are riveted to Kurt’s hands as he flicks open the button and tugs down the zipper. Kurt runs his hands back up his body slowly. With a snap of his hips, the pants pool at his ankles and he steps out of them deftly. Blaine eyes the bulge in the front of Kurt’s snug black boxer briefs hungrily. When Kurt’s hand curls around it, Blaine presses a palm to his own hardening cock and chokes back a whimper. _Be quiet, he’ll hear you_ wars with _you are such a creeper_ in Blaine’s mind.

Kurt turns and watches his ass in the mirror as he stretches the elastic over it and pulls down his briefs. Blaine stares in wonder as the muscles shift beneath the round, firm globes of Kurt’s ass. Blaine stretches shaking fingers toward the image before him. _He is so close. It’s as if I could just reach out and touch him_. He catches a delicious glimpse of Kurt’s dusty pink hole and the bottom curve of his balls hanging down as he bends slightly to pull the underwear free from his legs.

Kurt straightens, muscles rippling across his back and turns to face the mirror, hard cock already in his hand. His cock is flushed pink, long and thin with a delicate mushroom head. Kurt is squeezing it gently, head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Blaine’s cock is straining against his pants, but he simply presses his hand against it harder, not daring to do more. _This is so wrong. I need to look away._

But he can’t stop watching as Kurt runs his hand up and down the shaft of his cock tantalizing and slow. Blaine feels a stab of fear as Kurt turns a piercing gaze right at him. He freezes again, fighting his urge to run. _It’s a mirror. He’s looking at himself._ Blaine’s cock jumps at this thought. It is hard to reconcile this shameless image of a man masturbating to the sight of his own body with the image of his often closed-off, uptight neighbor. And Blaine is coming undone at the illusion that Kurt is staring at him with that searing gaze. It is so easy to imagine that Kurt is locking eyes with Blaine deliberately as he makes a show of licking his palm with messy greed. Kurt throws his head back again as his slicked up hand flies quickly up and down his cock. Blaine squeezes his fingers around his own throbbing cock, still trapped in his pants. When he hears Kurt’s moans drift through the wall, that’s all it takes before he feels his release pump hot and wet into his pants. Horrified that he has just gotten off to watching his neighbor’s very private moment, Blaine stands and slowly backs away, eyes still trained on Kurt’s straining body. But before Blaine even reaches the closet door, Kurt releases his cock from his tight grip and walks briskly, cock bobbing up and down, toward the hallway leading to his bedroom.   

 _Okay, maybe that was not so harmless._ Blaine grabs a few shirts and pairs of pants at random and throws them over his dresser before locking the closet door. The next day, Blaine blushes each time he tries to meet Kurt's eyes.

**August 17, 2022**

Blaine waits until he has worn all of the clothes piled on the dresser at least once before he dares to open the closet door again. Feeling a bit foolish, he closes his eyes and reaches in front of himself blindly, hoping to safely pass in front of the window and reach the clothes on the other side. He cries out in pain, eyes flying open when he stubs his toe on the bench. His eyes are drawn instantly to the one-way mirror and he curses himself for being so weak.

Kurt is sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing, phone to his ear. Blaine feels a pang of disappointment that Kurt is fully dressed, followed immediately by a wave of self-loathing for thinking such a thing. _He has all his clothes on this time. And I’ve already given in. It can’t hurt to take a closer look._ Blaine studies Kurt through the glass. Kurt looks utterly distraught, eyes and nose tinged red and cheeks streaked with tears. He ends the call and drops the phone beside him before burying his face in his hands and shaking with small sobs.

Without a second thought, Blaine races out of his apartment. Within seconds he is knocking at Kurt’s door. He is still trying to think of a plausible excuse for coming over – _don’t ask to borrow anything, for God’s sake_ – when Kurt opens the door, sniffling slightly. “I was just coming over to see if…” Blaine’s voice trails away. Kurt’s tears have been wiped away but his face is still blotchy and his eyes red-rimmed. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”

Kurt steps back and Blaine steps forward. Suddenly, Kurt launches himself at Blaine, squeezing him into a desperate hug. Blaine wraps his arms gently over Kurt’s back, rubbing comforting circles into his skin and reveling in the solid feel of him.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says as he releases his grip and steps back again. “I’m okay. Just a bit overwhelmed.”

“What happened?” Blaine asks with concern etched into his face.

"I just got off the phone with my dad,” Kurt begins. He quickly adds, “Everyone’s fine,” when he sees Blaine’s worried look. “It’s just...my dad was diagnosed with cancer few years ago. It’s been in remission. It was stage one and he did everything the doctors asked. But he still has checkups to make sure it’s still in remission. He checked out fine this time around, but I just get so worried leading up to these appointments.”

“But you look so upset…” Blaine says, bewildered.

Kurt smiles at him reassuringly. “It’s good news, really. But I miss my dad so much sometimes.  It can be so hard to have to get news like this over the phone and not be able to hug him. So thank you for being my proxy."

“Anytime,” Blaine smiles back and opens his arms for another hug. He pulls Kurt close and shuts his eyes, breathing him in. _Okay, maybe it’s not always harmless, but if I can help Kurt, and get to hold him, then watching him sometimes can't all be bad. And so what if there are some perks..._

 

**February 20, 2023**

Blaine is shamelessly sitting on the bench in the closet, computer on his lap, typing up a report on one of his patients. It would be much more comfortable to sit at his desk with the computer at the correct height. Instead, Blaine hunches over the keyboard in his lap, his gaze bouncing between the hand-written notes propped on one thigh, the keyboard and the window in front of him.

Kurt often does yoga on Wednesday nights, but the exact time seems to vary based on whether Kurt has a dinner meeting with a client, a play rehearsal, or a light work day. The yoga can last anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes. Blaine doesn't want to miss it just because he can't always hear Kurt's key turning in the lock when he is concentrating on paperwork at his desk. So he suffers through the uncomfortable position and focuses on his work. Work is a great distraction from the creeping guilt that pokes around the edges of his mind, threatening to seep in and take over.

He is about three quarters of the way through the stack of reports when light floods Kurt's apartment. Kurt flits in and out of view as he hangs up his coat, puts leftovers in the refrigerator, then disappears down the hallway toward the bedroom and bathroom. Blaine glances up occasionally from his paperwork, determined to get as much work in as possible before the yoga begins and he loses all ability to concentrate.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt stands in front of the mirror in snug brown yoga pants and a form-fitting cream tank top. His hair is still wet from the shower and Blaine watches a bead of water slide down the side of Kurt's neck. His heart races as he imagines capturing the errant drop with his tongue.

Blaine dumps the computer and stack of papers off his lap and gives his full attention to Kurt, who is now bending perfectly in half from a standing position. His head touches his knees and he wraps his arms around his perfectly straight legs. It looks so effortless and graceful. Blaine imagines running his hands up and down those legs, gently squeezing the taut flesh in an effort to get Kurt to make some of those glorious sounds that sometimes drift through the wall.

Kurt transitions smoothly into a lunge and a delicious strip of skin appears as his tank top rides up his back. Soon he's on all fours, alternately rounding and arching his back in a tantalizing manner. _Oh – I love that one. The ass-push._ Blaine giggles and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loudly. He is ever mindful of how much noise travels through the mirror and the surrounding wall. Blaine realizes that inventing his own names for yoga positions is about as disastrous as that time he'd invented his own names for constellations to impress a guy on a date. _I need to do some research online to find out what those things are actually called so I stop distracting myself with laughter. And stick to songwriting as a creative outlet._

But all thoughts stop when Kurt gracefully swings his body into the next move. It starts with Kurt pressing his shoulders to the ground with arms stretched out behind him and head tucked in. Then he lifts the rest of his body – everything but the shoulders – straight into the air. The tank top pools at Kurt's chest and the perfect lines of his tight abdominal muscles are on full display. He holds this pose for a few minutes and then slowly, carefully tilts his hips until his legs are stretched out over and behind his head and his ass is pointing up in the air.

 _I haven't seen him do that before. He must have learned that in class this week._ Kurt attends yoga classes at a studio not far from the hospital. Blaine knows this because he once asked Kurt for a gym recommendation. Kurt had laughed airily and informed him that the loud clanging of weights, pained grunts, machines streaked with other people's sweat and blaring pop music were just not his style. That he much preferred the clean, quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the Lasting Light Yoga Studio.

Of course, Blaine didn't actually need a gym recommendation. He had already joined the YMCA, which was the only local gym that both catered to boxers and was in his price range. He had asked the question hoping to get Kurt on the subject of yoga. Making sure he and Kurt had plenty of innocent conversations about the things Blaine saw through the mirror lowered the chances that Blaine would reveal his shameful secret with an offhand remark about something he shouldn't know.

Kurt is bouncing his legs a bit, trying to force an even deeper stretch. He turns his head slightly, watching his body in the mirror with a hungry look. Blaine gasps at his unexpected erection. _God, Kurt. What you do to me with just a look._ Blaine palms his erection, suppressing a groan and hoping that Kurt's stretching might morph into something more. As if Kurt is reading his mind, he tugs furiously at the yoga pants. Without even breaking that impossible-looking pose, he slides the pants up and over his bare ass and then down and off his legs in one fluid motion. Blaine mirrors his actions, standing up slightly to pull his pants and underwear down and off without taking his eyes off Kurt's body.

Kurt's cock springs free and swings, dangling just inches above his face. Kurt watches it with interest as it begins to swell. Leaving his arms stretched out behind him, Kurt puckers his lips and blows gently. His dick jumps and grows with the attention, inching closer and closer to Kurt's lips. Kurt tilts his hips and lowers his legs another inch.

 _No, it's not possible. Only 2% of guys can do that,_ Blaine recalls from a long forgotten textbook just as Kurt's tongue darts out to lick off the beads of pre-come beading at the tip of his still-growing cock.

Experimentally, Blaine leans forward to see how close he can get his face to his crotch. He pushes himself past the point of the stretch becoming painful, pulls his cock toward his mouth and stretches his tongue as far as it will go. He's still short by at least a centimeter. His cock is aching for touch, teased by the sensation of heat from his tongue and panting breath. And he's missing the show. _Damn._

Blaine straightens, looking again at the mirror. This time, he is fully prepared for anything that might happen on the Kurt Hummel show. He fishes out the bottle of lube from beneath the bench and dribbles some on his cock, hissing as the cold liquid hits his sensitive flesh. The lube quickly heats up as Blaine strokes slowly, eyes glued to the image before him.

Now fully erect, Kurt's cock is long enough for him to bury the first two inches fully in his mouth. Kurt's lips stretch around his own cock and his cheeks hollow slightly as he sucks gently, then licks further up the shaft. Kurt moves his hands to his lower back, pushing his body closer, and another inch of his cock disappears into his mouth.

Blaine can hear Kurt's muffled groans and whimpers faintly as they drift through the wall and his hand speeds up on his own cock. But all too soon he feels the tightening in his abdomen, so he stops stroking, gripping hard at the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. It's so much better when he and Kurt come at the same time. It helps him imagine that this is something they are doing together. Something that Kurt wants. Not something that he is stealing from his best friend.

Kurt still has one hand on his lower back, pushing his body and his cock firmly down and into his mouth. He wraps the other hand around the base of his cock, stroking in time with his bobbing head. His hips are quivering and the tendons in his neck are straining as he sucks and licks and strokes in earnest, moaning around his cock. His eyes dart to the mirror and he watches his lips stretch and slide as his cock pumps in and out.

Blaine is back to slow strokes on his cock, but he speeds up again when he sees Kurt's eyes lock with his. _No, the mirror. He's watching himself in the mirror._ Kurt looks away and throws his head back with a wordless shout, body tensing and spasming. Kurt's hips jerk back and his cock springs free from his lips. Come is spilling from his open mouth and still spurting from his pulsing cock, painting Kurt's face and neck with streams of white. Blaine tenses and feels his own release shoot hot into his hand as he chokes back his moan of pleasure.

Panting and already reaching for the towel at his feet, Blaine continues to watch Kurt in fascination. Kurt straightens his body and lowers his legs to the floor, then turns on his side to face the mirror. He grabs the abandoned yoga pants and lays them under his head to catch the rivulets of come dripping down his cheeks and neck. Staring at the mirror with steamy eyes, Kurt licks at the come on his face with a slow, languid sweep of his tongue. He pulls the thick white substance into his mouth and swallows hungrily, opening his mouth wide to show a few beads of white still left on his tongue. _He's trying to kill me,_ thinks Blaine, as his oversensitive dick twitches painfully.

Kurt shifts to his hands and knees and crawls closer to the mirror, staring at himself with a seductive look. He runs a finger through the come and trails it down his chest. He practices a few pouts and sexy looks for a minute. Blaine can't help smiling at these antics, but is soon gasping again when Kurt holds a particularly smoking look, gathers up more come with his finger and slowly brings it to his lips. Kurt sucks the finger into his mouth and his face instantly distorts into a grimace of disgust. He spits the mouthful into the yoga pants and leaps to his feet in one swift motion before prancing back toward the bathroom. Wondering what happened; Blaine sweeps a finger through his own come and licks it experimentally. He shudders. _Yeah – it's pretty gross when it's cold._

**February 21, 2023**

Kurt opens the door before Blaine even knocks. "I could smell the delectable odor of Thai food wafting through the hallway," Kurt says in explanation as he grabs the takeout bag from Blaine's hand and brings it to the kitchen. Blaine toes off his shoes and follows.

Kurt had cancelled their regular morning coffee for an early meeting with a client. When Kurt texted him an hour ago – _I'm soooo tired. I'm soooo hungry. But I don't feel like cooking because I'm soooo tired. Would you pretty please pick up some Thai on your way home and share it with me? –_ Blaine jumped at the chance to have dinner with his gorgeous friend.

They dance around each other in the kitchen, spooning food from the carryout containers onto plates and filling up glasses of water and wine. When they sink down into their chairs at the kitchen table, Kurt sighs and says, "At last." They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before falling into easy conversation.

Feeling satisfied with his meal, Blaine takes a mouthful of water and is just starting to swallow it when Kurt rolls his shoulders and tilts his neck with a wince. “Ow! I think I pulled a muscle last night."

Choking, Blaine spits his water halfway across the table. _Smooth. At least it wasn’t wine._

"Oh my God, Blaine! Are you okay?"

Still spluttering, Blaine manages to squeak out, "M'okay. Just swallowed wrong." When his coughing fit quiets and he gets his breathing back under control he asks, "I should be asking you the same question."

"What?” Kurt asks, but winces again when he shifts. “Yeah, the Advil is definitely wearing off. I think I pulled something, but I’m not sure.”

“How did it happen?” Blaine asks, then immediately flushes red because he _knows_ how it happened. _Idiot! Why did you ask that?_

Thankfully, Kurt seems oblivious to Blaine’s stammering. Nonchalantly he says, “Oh, I don't know. It was probably just bad posture. I tend to hunch over my sketchbook sometimes."

Blaine knows that isn't true. He's watches Kurt sit ramrod straight while he works time and again. But he's certainly not going to question Kurt's excuse. "That really sucks. If Advil helps, maybe you should take some more?"

“Yes, I’ll go grab it right now.” Kurt heads toward the bathroom and returns with two pills in his hand. He swallows them quickly and says, “It’s too bad these are going to take at least an hour to kick in. Do you think I should put ice on it?”

Blaine sees an opportunity and decides to jump on it. "That might help. But you know what? I'm pretty good at massages. Would you like one?" he asks, heart pounding as he silently begs Kurt to say yes.

Kurt hesitates, biting his lip and looking down at the table. Blaine steadies himself for rejection as Kurt rolls his shoulders again and flexes them experimentally. He glances up at Blaine shyly and says, “Maybe a massage would be good.”

They relocate to the living room and cast about uncertainly for the best way to position themselves. They finally settle on both sitting on the rug. Blaine leans back against the sofa with his legs stretched out on either side of Kurt, who sits cross-legged in front of him. Blaine feels the heat of Kurt’s body between his thighs and he glances nervously at their reflections in the mirror. He pushes his hips back against the sofa to gain a little distance as he doesn’t quite trust himself not to get hard. Thinking about anything other than what he’s seen through that mirror, Blaine forces his focus onto Kurt’s shoulders in front of him.

Blaine places tentative fingers onto Kurt’s shoulders, running them slowly from his neck out to his arms. He rubs Kurt’s shoulders gently for a moment before gripping them tightly and pushing his thumbs into the flesh, rubbing in sensual circles. Heart pounding and desire coursing through his veins, Blaine shifts his thumbs toward the back of Kurt’s neck, rubbing up into the base of his skull and letting his fingertips brush into Kurt’s hair.

It is dizzying, intoxicating to be this close to him, to feel his muscles beneath his hands. Blaine closes his eyes and breathes the smell of him in deep as he rubs slowly and sensually across Kurt’s shoulders and down the top of his back. Kurt is making delicious mewls and moans of pleasure and Blaine can feel him loosen up beneath his hands. Blaine closes his eyes again and pictures rubbing into Kurt’s naked back. His cock stirs and his eyes fly open. _Don’t think about that!_ Kurt groans in protest at the hesitation and Blaine continues rubbing a bit more methodically now.

When he reaches Kurt's lower back, he can feel the tension in his muscles. He presses a thumb into one particularly tight knot and Kurt keens, "Ooh, right there, that's the spot."

Blaine hears himself say, "I would think you would have more tightness in your shoulders and neck, and not in your lower back, if it was just from hunching over. Did you do something else?" Blaine cringes immediately. _What possessed you to say that?_

But Kurt remains completely relaxed under Blaine’s touch. He absently replies, "Hmmm, maybe. I can't remember what it could be though.” Pulling away from Blaine’s legs, Kurt continues. “That's enough, by the way. Thanks. I feel much better."

Reluctantly, Blaine lifts his hands from Kurt’s back and places them on his own thighs. Kurt moves to the sofa and slouches back with a sigh. As they sit in silence, Blaine finds his eyes drawn once more to the mirror. He looks at their reflections and Kurt meets his gaze in the glass.  

As they look at each other in the mirror, Blaine asks something that has been on his mind for a long time. "Was that always here?" He regrets the question immediately. If Kurt put in the mirror himself, then he would have to know about the window on the other side. And Blaine can’t imagine that his aunt would have wanted to spy on anyone. But if Kurt’s first creepy neighbor put it in, how would he do it without Kurt’s knowledge? It just didn’t add up.

"Oh, I didn’t put it in myself if that’s what you mean. But it wasn’t here when I first looked at the place. The owner of the building put it in at my request,” Kurt answers lazily, closing his eyes and stretching out on the couch. Blaine turns to face him, eyes raking over Kurt’s peaceful face and rumpled shirt. Kurt’s response brought up more questions than it answered.  

Blaine is still trying out different follow-up questions in his mind when Kurt continues. “There was another apartment I was looking at on the other side of town. It had a big mirror all across one wall, and I really liked it. This building is in a better neighborhood and the apartment has that great view, but they wanted a lot more rent, and they didn’t have that incredible mirror.”

“So you bargained for it?” Blaine asks curiously.

“Well, you have seen how good I am at bargaining,” Kurt says coyly, opening his eyes and raising his head to look at Blaine. “I have to use my acting skills for something useful, you know.”

“Still, it seems like a rather odd request. Most people would ask for utilities to be included or something,” Blaine insists, certain there is more to this story.

“Well, I could have bought a mirror and installed it myself, but they can be quite expensive. So I thought I would ask. I probably would have picked this apartment anyway.”

“So the owner agreed just like that?” Blaine persisted.

Kurt glances to the side, remembering. “Well, now that you mention it, she didn’t agree right away. Mrs. Morrison left me in the apartment on my own while she went downstairs to get a copy of the lease agreement for me to review. While she was gone I met Sandy. You know, the really creepy neighbor? But he didn’t seem creepy at the time, just very friendly.” Blaine feels chills run down his spine as Kurt continues his story, happily unaware of Blaine’s growing horror. “We were talking in the hallway when Mrs. Morrison came back and I asked about the mirror. She kind of brushed me off in person, but a week later I got a text from her suggesting I come back to see the improvements.” Kurt smiles and gestures at the mirror. “And there it was. I was quite thrilled, so I signed the lease agreement on the spot.”

 

**February 26, 2023**

Blaine is certain that Sandy must have had the mirror installed and that the next sub-letter, creepy neighbor number two, had also watched Kurt. _And now so am I – creepy neighbor number three._ Blaine pushes that thought aside and decides he needs to find out more about what might have happened.

Blaine calls his father and after exchanging a few pleasantries, guides the conversation to the sub-lease agreement Aunt Becca had with the man who had lived in the apartment when Kurt moved in. "So, I was wondering,” Blaine begins hesitantly before rushing through his question. “Does the lease agreement allow a sub-letter to make modifications to the apartment?"

His father reacts with immediate anger. "You've been there less than two months, Blaine! What did you do? Are you throwing wild parties? Did someone break a wall?"

"What? No, nothing,” Blaine splutters. He had not anticipated the accusation. “I haven't modified anything; I'm asking about if the sub-letters ever did."

"Why? Did they?” his father booms, the anger now laced with traces of concern. “Is there something wrong with the apartment? Do I need to fly up there and look at it?"

"No – no. Nothing's wrong with it."

His father sighs in frustration. "Then why are you asking about this?"

"Um – well,” Blaine starts, inventing what he hopes is a plausible cover story. “I’m asking for my neighbor. He sub-lets, too, and he wanted to know what our agreement says. He thought if we allowed modifications it would help him bring it up with the person he sub-lets from," he lies.

"What does he want to do?"

"Built in bookcases, I think. I didn't really ask."

"Oh. Well, I can't really help you or your neighbor there. There isn't anything about that in the agreement that I know of. And I would turn down anyone who requests it. You never know what kind of nightmare that can turn into.” _You have no idea_ , thinks Blaine as his father continues. “It’s the person whose name is on the lease who is responsible for the apartment, not the sub-letter. Just tell your neighbor to buy freestanding bookcases. They're better than making an investment in something you can't take with you when you leave."

"Yeah. I guess you're right,” Blaine concedes. He steers the discussion to Cooper, relieved that his brother’s antics always provide a good segue out of a messy conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, those of you who guessed that the scene Blaine tells Kurt over the phone in Chapter 1 was inspired by the scene with Emilio and the secretary in Struck By Lightning are 100% correct. Gold stars all around!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues the structure of a series of chronological events in one timeline (October – December, 2022) followed by a time jump (March 2023). The earlier timelines are chronological across chapters but the later timelines jump back and forth between January and April in previous chapters. In this chapter, the section titled March 29, 2023 starts where the last section of Chapter 1 ends, so you may want to re-read the last section of Chapter 1.  
> This chapter includes non-con voyeurism (Blaine watches Kurt through the mirror and Kurt is unaware); brief mentions of bullying and suicide; masturbation, toys, phone sex.

**A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta[gigi42](http://www.gigi42.livejournal.com). This chapter is much improved thanks to your careful attention to characterization.**

**October 20, 2022**

Over the past two months, watching Kurt in the mirror has quickly become a nearly nightly occurrence. Blaine tells himself he is doing this for Kurt, so he can be a better friend to him, to make Kurt happy.

Like the time when Blaine sees Kurt sitting cross-legged on his couch with a mini-keyboard across his lap. He plays a few notes on the keyboard, then leans over it to scrawl in pencil across an individual sheet of paper. Blaine squints to make sense of the lines and dots on the page, but when Kurt picks up a stack of the papers and flips through them, Blaine is able to see the five repeated horizontal lines of the staff paper. _He’s writing music!_

Unsure of how to bring this up in a future conversation, Blaine scrambles up from his bench in the walk-in closet, pausing in front of his bathroom mirror to smooth his hair into place before bounding out the front door. In a few strides he is standing in front of Kurt’s apartment and knocking briskly on the door.

Kurt must have looked through the peep hole because he is already saying, “Blaine! How are you?” before he swings the door fully open.

“Hi, Kurt. I’m doing very well, thanks. And you?” Blaine says with a broad smile.

“Pretty good. Um, what’s going on?” Kurt asks expectantly.

Blaine peers into the apartment behind Kurt, expecting Kurt to take a step back and invite him in. But Kurt’s feet remain planted on the floor, his body blocking the entrance. Searching his mind for an excuse for his intrusion, he blurts out, “Toothpaste!” At Kurt’s puzzled look he adds, “I mean, I ran out of toothpaste and was wondering if I could borrow some. I was hoping to avoid a trip to the drugstore until the morning.” Blaine smiles innocently, hoping his excuse sounds plausible.

Kurt wraps an arm tight around his waist, clutching his other arm with his hand. Frowning, he steps back and pulls the door a few inches closer to its frame. Kurt opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Blaine cuts in frantically. “Oh, God, Kurt. I’m sorry. I know I sound just like your creepy neighbor who used to ask to borrow weird things all the time.”

Kurt relaxes a bit and huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, you kind of do. You don’t really need toothpaste do you? At this time of day?”

Blaine hangs his head down to stare at his feet, then looks up at Kurt hopefully. “This might make me sound even worse, but I actually just made that up because I felt silly about why I really am here.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Kurt says slowly. “What is the real reason?”

 _I can’t stay away from you. I think I’m in love with you. I want to know everything about you._ “Well, I was wondering – oh God, this is really embarrassing – do you have a scale?”

At Kurt’s puzzled look, Blaine continues, “Like a bathroom scale – to weigh yourself with? I’m about to start a new exercise regimen and I was hoping to get a baseline – but I don’t own a scale yet.” Blaine knows that Kurt has a scale. Kurt had once mentioned that he weighs himself first thing every morning. Asking to use the scale is perfect because it can plausibly be considered an embarrassing request and to use it, Blaine can step into the apartment and “just happen to notice” the music-writing implements in the living room.

Blaine laughs sheepishly and grinds his toe back and forth on the hallway rug. “I didn’t really want you to know about it. I was kind of hoping I could use the toothpaste excuse to somehow get myself alone in your bathroom so I could use the scale without you ever knowing. Which is a dumb plan, really. I mean, I don’t even know if you have a scale, let alone if you keep it in the bathroom.”

Kurt still looks skeptical. “I can tell you where you can buy one around here. Or you know, you can order one on-line.”

“Well, I suppose I could…” Blaine drags the sentence out, searching his mind frantically for a way to gain Kurt’s sympathy. He looks Kurt directly in the eye. “I guess I’m just not ready to admit to total strangers that I care about my weight. So I don’t really want to go to a store. And I did order one online, but I couldn’t afford fast shipping, so I have to wait a week or two for it. And I’m kind of anxious to find out where I stand.” Blaine bends his head and rubs his face with his hand in what he hopes is a passable imitation of shame. “I can’t believe I just told you all of that. It’s so embarrassing, God.”

Kurt drops his arm to his side. In a gentle voice he says, “Please don’t be embarrassed about weighing yourself. I think it’s a great discipline. It can help you get motivated when you don’t feel like exercising…” Kurt pauses for a moment and his eyes widen. “Oh God, I’m doing it again. I totally lectured a really good friend in high school about her weight and almost ruined our friendship. I really should just shut up and let you in.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, really. You aren’t doing anything wrong,” Blaine says reassuringly.

Kurt steps back in invitation, waving Blaine through the door. “I really am trying to learn my lesson and just stay out of people’s business when it comes to their weight and health. Of course you can use my scale. You just do what you need to do and I’ll stay out of your way. It’s on the floor in the bathroom – right through there and on the right.” Kurt points toward the hallway leading from the kitchen back toward the bedroom. “I’m just going to straighten up,” Kurt says as he walks into the living room.

Blaine pokes his head into the living room after Kurt and asks with forced incredulity, “You have a keyboard? That’s so cool. May I try it out?”

“Sure,” says Kurt, following Blaine into the living room. “Do you play?”

In response, Blaine sets the keyboard on his lap and pounds out the opening notes of Billy Joel’s “Piano Man”.

“You’re quite good,” says Kurt appreciatively.

“Thanks,” says Blaine. “This is a good model. It has a great sound.” He plays a few chords and scales before setting the keyboard back down on the table. This leads quite naturally to Blaine discovering the papers covered with musical notes and lyrics. “Did you write this?” Blaine asks, picking up one of the pages to take a closer look.

Kurt snatches the paper from Blaine’s hand. “Yes, it’s a musical I’ve been working on.”

“You’re writing a musical? That’s amazing,” Blaine gushes. “What’s it about?”

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Kurt says, clutching the paper close to his chest. “Or at least, I don’t think it would interest anyone other than me.”

“I’m interested,” says Blaine seriously. “Really, Kurt. Please tell me about it.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten very far with it,” Kurt mumbles to the floor, a blush rising on his cheeks. “I have a basic outline of the plot and a few of the songs are almost finished. But I don’t even have a title for it or anything.”

“You still haven’t told me what it’s about,” says Blaine, intrigued.

“I guess you could say it’s about trust and all the different ways trust can be broken – lies, betrayals, secrets.”

“Oh,” Blaine says quietly, a chill creeping up his spine. His first thought is to change the subject. After all, lies, betrayals and secrets are the last topics Blaine wants to discuss with the friend he spies on. But the desire to know everything about this intriguing man burns deeper than Blaine’s fear of discovery. He asks, “What, um, inspired that?”

“It’s a bit autobiographical, I’m embarrassed to admit. But that’s why I don’t think it would interest anyone else. I’m not planning to try to get it produced or even to share it with anyone. It’s just cathartic for me to write it,” Kurt explains, gathering the papers spread across the coffee table and taming them into a neat pile.

“I dabble in writing music,” says Blaine. “Mostly songs that I sing and play on the guitar. But I usually write them with an audience in mind. I don’t think I’ve ever written a song just for myself. I’m not sure if I’d ever need to. That’s probably because I think that singing for an audience is the epitome of cathartic.”

“Well, maybe I’ll share it someday,” Kurt concedes. “I’m not sure that the world is ready to hear my sordid tales of failed romance just yet.”

“You know, sometimes it helps to just talk about it,” Blaine says hopefully. “I would be happy to listen. I can even share some of my own tales of woe.” _And if I understand what happened to you that left you so skittish about relationships, maybe I can help you move past it._

“That’s kind of you,” Kurt says uncertainly. “But I really can’t imagine that your woes are really anything like mine. At least, for your sake, I certainly hope not.”

“I’ve been stood up. I’ve been dumped,” Blaine insists.

“No, you have nothing on my sad story,” Kurt says with a sigh. “I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ve been humiliated, cheated on, lied to, harassed, and betrayed in some pretty horrible ways.”

 “God, Kurt. I’m so sorry,” starts Blaine, reaching out for Kurt’s hand.

Kurt steps back before Blaine can make contact, wrapping both arms tightly around his waist. In an overly bright voice he says, “And that’s why I don’t talk about this. Really, it’s fine. I’m over it – mostly. Like I said, writing this helps.” He picks up the stack of papers and shuffles through them. “Or usually it does. Sometimes writing music can be so frustrating. I’m completely stuck on this one song. Writing the lyrics is pretty easy for me, but I have a harder time with the music. I just can’t get the right melody to go with the lyrics.”

Blaine wants to push Kurt to tell him more, wants to comfort him. But Kurt has made it clear that he prefers to move on to a different topic, so Blaine says, “I write music, too. I might be able to help you with that.”

Kurt clutches the music close to his chest and steps back again, shaking his head. “Like I said, this is a bit personal. So thanks, but no.”

“You don’t need to share the lyrics with me, but if you play the melody you have so far and tell me what you think is wrong with it, I really might be able to help you,” Blaine says earnestly. “I’m a pretty good composer.”

“I’m not really sure if that will work, but I guess we could try it.” Kurt shuffles through the papers again and pulls several from the stack. He sits down beside Blaine on the couch and pulls the keyboard onto his lap. After a moment of hesitation, he hands the selected pages to Blaine. “Actually, I suppose I could let you see the lyrics for this one song. It’s less about plot details and more about the emotions behind the story.”

Today, sitting at his desk in his apartment, Blaine smiles as he remembers several late nights sitting on Kurt’s couch, keyboard perched in his lap, their heads leaning in close together as they study the staff paper together or sing snippets of their creation in harmony. And he gained some valuable insight into Kurt’s past relationships. Earning Kurt’s trust is a daunting task, but Blaine has never shied away from a challenge. _Oh right, I really should order a scale,_ Blaine thinks as he flips his laptop open. _Just in case Kurt ever wants to use my bathroom._

Yes, Blaine uses what he learns from watching Kurt to grow closer to him. Watching Kurt helps Blaine get to know him better and to make him happy. Like when he saw Kurt reading Vogue and saw that there was no mailing label on the back. So Blaine scoured searched online to find the stores in New York City that are first to get new issues on their shelves, then took a trip to Manhattan that Wednesday to pick up a copy. The next morning at coffee, Kurt beamed when Blaine presented it to him, days earlier than he would find it at the local convenience store.

Or the time Blaine found a set of high quality sketchbooks at a flea market. He told Kurt that one of the art therapists at the hospital was cleaning out a closet and offered them, and that Blaine had snatched them up thinking Kurt might like them. Kurt’s nose wrinkled up in delight and his smile lit up the room.

And when Blaine sits on his bench in front of the glass and watches Kurt touch himself, when guilt starts to creep back into his mind, he reminds himself of that day in mid-August when he saw Kurt crying and knocked on his door with some invented pretext to offer the comfort Kurt was too proud to seek. And if Blaine enjoys watching Kurt’s expressive face, tantalizing clothing, quirky habits, and occasional kinky foray, what is the harm in that?

 

**October 29, 2022**

As they sip their coffee that morning, Blaine turns his phone toward Kurt. “My friend Wes sent this to me. Check it out.”

Kurt dutifully trains his eyes on the latest _It Gets Better_ video while Blaine talks over the sound. “I love this organization and all they’ve done for people. But seeing this just reminds me that kids are still getting harassed so much for being who they are.” Blaine stares at his hands wrapped around the warm cup of coffee. “And that some of them think it’s easier to just end everything than to muddle through to the better. It’s tragic, you know? It pisses me off that they have to muddle through at all.”

Blaine’s gaze drifts back to Kurt and he freezes at the stricken look on his friend’s face. “Kurt, are you okay?”

Kurt focuses his glistening eyes onto Blaine. With a quiver in his voice he says, “Yeah, I’m okay. This just brings up a lot of old memories from high school.”

“You were bullied?” Blaine asks.

Kurt blinks back the tears threatening to spill out and nods. “It was pretty bad.” He smiles wryly. “The jocks of Lima, Ohio never really appreciated the full glory that is Kurt Hummel's sense of style. I can't tell you how many vintage pieces I saved up for only to have them ruined when some Neanderthal threw flavored sugar water with shaved iced and red dye number 5 in my face or tossed me in the dumpster with yesterday's spaghetti."

"Kurt, that’s awful,” Blaine says compassionately. “You didn’t ever think about...hurting yourself, did you?”

“No. Not seriously, anyway. I wasn’t the only one getting bullied, though I think I had it a lot worse than some of the others.” Kurt looks into the distance thoughtfully. “But I handled it okay on my own. I daydreamed a lot about making it big and having all those Neanderthals work for me.”

“Did you ever fight back?”

“Not really. Most of them were a lot bigger than me. So I opted for getting slammed against the lockers on a daily basis instead of provoking them. But I had a few fierce verbal comebacks, especially when they tried to push around the girls from my Glee club.”

“I take it the teachers and administrators weren’t much help?” asks Blaine, leaning forward with interest.

“No, most of the time they didn’t notice or they didn’t care. My Glee advisor did try to help one time when it was particularly bad. But nothing changed.”

“What happened?”

“There was this one bully who was worse than the others. He seemed to target all his hate and homophobia on me. It was really getting me down. The Glee advisor, Mr. Schuester, found me after one of my encounters with Dave and talked with me about it. He took it to the principal and was laughed out of his office.”

“Public school, right?” Blaine asks knowingly.

“Yeah, we couldn’t afford a private school or I might have transferred after that. It kept getting worse. I felt like I was in some kind of horror movie and every time I turned a corner, there was Dave, ready to throw me against the lockers or fling a cold drink in my face. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I ran after him.” Kurt pauses dramatically and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I stupidly followed him into the locker room – alone.”

“Oh my God. What happened?” Blaine grips the edge of the table hard, his knuckles just beginning to turn white.

“He kissed me,” Kurt deadpans.

“What? Are you joking?” _Please be joking._

“No. It turns out that his hatred of all things gay was mostly self-directed.”

“What did you do?” Blaine asks.

“I kept his secret. And I tried to talk with him as much as I could. I was the only openly gay guy at my school. Dave was a football jock at the top of the social ladder. I thought that if he came out, we could make some real strides toward tolerance.”

“Did he? Come out, I mean?”

“No. But we started dating. In secret, of course.”

Blaine thinks for a moment before asking hesitantly,“Was that your first…”

“Yes.”

 _Oh God,_ Blaine thinks. _No wonder he’s so terrified of dating._ “Your first boyfriend physically harassed you every day?”

“It sounds terrible when you put it that way,” Kurt laughs mirthlessly. “After we got together, he stopped bullying me and just ignored me at school. And he actually was pretty sweet when we were alone. So it didn’t seem so bad at the time, while it lasted.”

Blaine just quirks an eyebrow and waits in silence. 

Kurt holds Blaine’s gaze, locking his face in a stoic expression. The silence continues, and Kurt looks away. “Oh, who am I kidding, it was a terrible idea. It ended in a horrible public humiliation at our junior prom when he, predictably, chose self-preservation over me. It was the first in a short but painful string of extremely horrible relationships, as I’ve mentioned before. Hence, I’m not interested in dating. Never again.”

“Well, yes, that guy seems like a poor choice,” Blaine says slowly. “But I’m sure you’ve learned from the past. It’s not a reason to shut the door on dating forever.” _It’s not a reason to not date me._

“No, you don’t know the details. And no, I really don’t want to go into it right now. If ever,” Kurt says, his words speeding up and his voice reaching an ever higher pitch as he continues. “It was bad – really bad. And not just with Dave. If anything, it got worse from there.”

“But he was a bully. There are plenty of guys who would treat you right,” Blaine argues. _I would never hurt you. Just give me a chance._

Kurt laughs dismissively. “Believe me, I thought I was being careful after that. I guess I’m just a magnet for creeps masquerading as nice guys.”

Blaine startles as if punched in the gut at hearing Kurt’s favorite word for his previous neighbors. Neighbors who watched Kurt through the same one-way mirror Blaine uses almost daily.

“What? What did I say?” Kurt asks.  

Blaine realizes he is staring, open-mouthed and silent, at his confused neighbor. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t say anything wrong. I’m, um, just really sorry that happened to you,” Blaine says morosely, not sure if he’s referring to the bullying, Kurt’s sad dating history, the creepy neighbors, or his own violation of Kurt’s trust. “And I’m sorry to have reminded you of…all of it…with that video.”

“No, I’m glad you showed it to me,” Kurt says easily, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture and hands his phone back to him. “It’s good to talk about these things and get to know each other better.” Kurt pauses, looking at Blaine searchingly. “But why did your friend send you this video? I have a hard time picturing boxer Blaine getting bullied.”

Blaine releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, grateful for the opening to focus on his more distant memories. “Well, there’s a reason I took up boxing. I had some pretty harrowing experiences in high school, too. I can't say it ever involved food or drinks, but I did get beat up a few times.”

Kurt’s mouth drops open. "God, Blaine. That's awful. What did you do?"

"I ran away.” At Kurt’s shocked look, he hurriedly clarifies, “I mean, I transferred to a private school. Dalton was great. It had a no bullying policy that was actually enforced – and a killer Glee club. I loved it there. But I always did regret running away instead of standing up to the bullies. I really admire you."

"Well, as I said, I didn’t really have a choice,” Kurt says, looking down and flushing modestly. “Plus, I wouldn't say I stood up to them exactly. Although I did have a few fierce comebacks," he smiles wistfully as he remembers. "But you better believe I left for New York as soon as I could."

"Yes, I'm so glad to be in New York, too,” Blaine says, smiling. “And I get to live next door to an up-and-coming star in interior design and the fashion world. I guess they’re right. It does get better."

This earns Blaine one of those rare toothy grins from Kurt and Blaine beams back at him, feeling like everything is right with the world once more.

 

**November 8, 2022**

Blaine dances from one end of the kitchen to the other, pausing occasionally to squat, push out his ass, and bounce in a rather poor imitation of twerking. He sings out loud with Miley Cyrus on his iPod’s nostalgia playlist as he flits from one site of the small kitchen to the other, pulling out a mixing bowl, beaters, sugar, and heavy whipping cream. Blaine has the cream whipped into a beautiful fluffy mound just as the oven timer beeps. Blaine dances over to the oven, opening the door and beaming at the golden crisp crust and the delicate smell of warm apple pie.

He sets the pie out to cool and pulls out a large plate and two forks. He turns off the music before cutting into the pie. Presentation is everything and he wants this dessert to look perfect. He rejects his first two attempts at cutting an even slice and finally accepts the third and fourth pieces, moving them carefully from the pie plate to the dinner plate. He tops each off with a generous tuft of whipped cream and quickly peeks through the mirror one last time to verify that Kurt is still in his living room, pencil moving rapidly across his sketch pad.

Satisfied at last, Blaine holds the plate in one hand and steps out to knock on Kurt’s door.

A few days ago, Blaine sat in rapt attention on his bench in front of the one-way mirror as Kurt dipped his finger into the whipped cream on top of what must have been a cup of hot chocolate, and sensually licked and sucked his finger clean while fixing the mirror with a searing gaze.

Blaine also has noticed over the past few months that Kurt seems to have two favorite desserts – cheesecake and apple pie. He has on several occasions enjoyed watching Kurt’s face contort in orgasmic pleasure as he savors one of these two delights.

In a moment of inspiration, only somewhat spurred on by a commercial he sees while catching up with Dancing with the Stars on Hulu, Blaine decides to make Kurt a treat. He smiles, silently congratulating himself on pairing one of Kurt’s favorite tastes with one of his own favorite visuals. 

This time Kurt swings the door open, stepping back immediately and gesturing Blaine inside, staring at the plate with wide eyes. “Ooooh, apple pie!” he squeals with delight. “Blaine, that’s one of my favorites. Is it homemade?”

Blaine answers proudly, “Absolutely. I even made the crust from scratch. And I whipped the cream. But stop gawking and start eating, before it gets cold.”

“That’s so sweet of you to bring me a piece. Let me grab another plate,” Kurt says as he skips toward the appropriate cabinet.

“Yeah, it was easier to bring it over this way,” Blaine says apologetically as Kurt carefully scoots one piece with a fork and his finger to another, smaller plate.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t have wanted you to drop one on the way over. Let’s take this into the living room,” Kurt says as he leads the way.

Blaine holds his plate in his lap, eyes glued to Kurt, who turns his plate this way and that, studying the piece of pie from every angle. “This looks so good,” Kurt says, dipping his finger into the whipped cream. Blaine stares, slack jawed, as Kurt sits just two feet from him, sucking in his cheeks and moaning pornographically. _I knew it! It’s even better in person._ Blaine tucks his hand under his thigh, resisting his brain’s loud call to pump his fist in the air in victory.

Just as Kurt pulls out his finger with a loud pop, he realizes Blaine is staring at him, frozen. Kurt’s cheeks flush red and his eyes widen. “Oh God, did I just do that?” he asks incredulously, holding his hand over his eyes.

“Oh hey, don’t mind me,” Blaine teases. “I’m just glad you like it.”

“Live alone for a while and you lose all your table manners. Sorry,” Kurt mumbles through his fingers.

In an attempt to put his friend back at ease, Blaine asks, “What were you up to tonight, anyway?”

Kurt peeks out from beneath his fingers, and seeing Blaine chewing on a piece of pie, he sags back into his seat and points at the sketchbook, now closed on the table. “I was working on some designs.”

“You sketch clothing ideas in there, right?” Blaine asks.

“Yes, and other things,” says Kurt. “Sometimes I draw out my designs for spaces, too. That can really help get the creative ideas flowing. Or I doodle various things. I find it relaxing.”

“May I take a look?” Blaine asks, setting his half-empty plate on the table next to the sketchbook. “My hands are clean,” he says, holding them up for inspection for a moment before reaching for the book.

Kurt huffs out an embarrassed chuckle and shrugs. “Be my guest. There’s nothing particularly interesting in there, though.”

“I beg to differ,” Blaine says sincerely as he flips through the pages, marveling at sketch after sketch. Interspersed among the pencil drawings of jackets, pants, vests, and ties are the occasional flowing lines of a dress, usually filled in with colored pencil. Blaine’s eyes widen as he looks at the interior design sketches. These are all in color – some in pencil and others in what looks like watercolor. “The detail is amazing, Kurt. These are beautiful.”

Kurt mumbles a thank you with a shy smile and reaches out for the book. But Blaine flips the page and gasps at the sophisticated shading of a self-portrait in charcoal. “Wait,” he says, drawing back from Kurt’s outstretched hand. “This is amazing. Do you have more of these?”

Kurt half stands and hovers over the book, peering at the page upside down. “Oh, yes. I do portraits sometimes, too.”

Blaine turns the page and marvels at several other portraits, men and women, drawn with such lifelike detail, each face expressing layers of emotion. Kurt twists his shirt nervously between his fingers and murmurs, “I draw a lot of my interior design clients. I’ll sketch them quickly during a meeting when they aren’t looking and then fill it in from memory later. I people watch at the coffee shop and sketch there too, when I’m alone.”

Blaine looks at Kurt with awe. “These aren’t just sketches, Kurt. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an amazing artist.”

“Thanks,” Kurt says, still looking down, but with the hints of a smile at the edges of his lips. He looks up and meets Blaine's eyes and his smile spreads. "You're an artist, too, right?"

"No,” says Blaine. “I can’t draw or paint to save my life.” He passes the sketchbook back to Kurt and picks up the plate of pie once more.  

"I mean your music, silly,” Kurt says enthusiastically. “Music is totally art. You play piano and guitar and sing and write music. That’s art. And you use it to help people. No one ever sees what I draw. And when I sing I just use it to entertain – or to occupy myself in the shower."

Blaine almost chokes on a piece of pie at the thought of other things Kurt might do to occupy himself in the shower, then flushes with shame at Kurt’s next words. “Plus, you’re so open about your art, singing and playing instruments with those kids at the hospital. In comparison, I’m a bit creepy myself. When I sketch people, I usually don’t ask permission. I just watch them from afar. At least you don’t steal people’s privacy and use it for your own gratification,” Kurt insists.

"Well, I wouldn’t describe people watching – or even sketching – as stealing someone’s privacy," Blaine says slowly, feeling alternately angry at Kurt's previous neighbor for spying on him and ashamed of himself for doing the same.  Blaine is not ready to confess, but he does want to step down from the completely undeserved pedestal Kurt seems to be building for him. "I'm not totally altruistic, either. I like to entertain, too, as you know from our karaoke adventure. And I admit that I like the idea of being famous someday. In fact, I've been checking out bars and coffee houses with open mic nights, hoping I’ll be discovered or something.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Kurt exclaims, bouncing up and down excitedly. “And there’s nothing wrong with being famous. You can probably help a lot more people that way. So, when are you playing? I’ve got to come and hear you.”

“Well, like I said, I’ve just started to look into possible venues.” _Which is particularly difficult when you spend all of your time either watching your neighbor or coming up with schemes to spend more time with him. It really kills your drive to write and perform new songs, too._ Blaine clears his throat and adds, “I’ll let you know when I book something.”

 

**November 15, 2022**

It turns out that Kurt’s interest in hearing him sing is a great motivator for Blaine. He soon has an open mic night for a local bar penciled in on his calendar.

Over coffee that morning, Kurt asks, “So, what's on your agenda for the rest of the day?"

"I'm hoping for a light day at work. This past week has been tiring." _It’s pretty hard to keep up a full schedule of practicing guitar, hunting for open mic nights, and watching Kurt as often as possible._

"I've got a crazy day ahead of me," Kurt says, sounding more exhilarated than annoyed. "Three client meetings in three boroughs – and not one of those is the Bronx. And I'm sure there'll be some frantic shopping trips in between.”

"Sounds busy – just like you like it," Blaine says, smiling.

"You already know me so well," Kurt says airily. "Do you have plans after work?"

"Are you asking me out?" Blaine asks with a flirty lilt. Kurt glares at him, un-amused.

Hesitantly, Blaine continues. "Well – I might stop by Beckstones to check it out. There's an open mic night there next week."

"You mean that tapas place near the hospital?"

"Yeah, though from what I hear it’s more famous for the margaritas than the tapas. Have you been?"

"No, I’ve just walked past it and remembered the name. When’s the open mic night? I’d love to drop by and hear your set."

"It’s on Sunday night. I think it starts around eight. I’ll only get to sing one or two songs, though, depending on how many other people sign up." Blaine takes a large sip of coffee to keep himself from breaking out into a pleased grin.

"Sounds good," Kurt says. “You can sing your songs and then we can grab some dinner and scope out your competition for the steady gigs.”

Blaine can’t keep from beaming, but Kurt’s gaze is on the table as he gathers up his empty cup and napkins. “See you later,” Kurt says distractedly, already halfway to the trash can.

“Okay,” Blaine says quietly to Kurt’s retreating back. His grin is so wide that he gets comments from passers-by on his way to the subway.

 

**November 18, 2022**

On Saturday afternoon, Blaine jogs home from the gym, smiling proudly at the slight burn in his arms and legs. He spends twenty minutes in the shower, at least half of which consists of turning back and forth to feel the pulse of nearly scalding hot water beat against each aching muscle. After patting himself down quickly with a towel, he heads to his bedroom to search for fresh clothes. Still rubbing his hair with the towel, he swings the closet door open and freezes.

Kurt is standing right in front of the mirror, peering into it. _Oh shit!_ Blaine holds the towel in front of his crotch and ducks behind the door. _Okay, okay, calm down. I’ve tried that before. I know he can’t see through the mirror._

After breathing deeply a few times, Blaine’s curiosity wins out and he peeks around the door. Kurt has stepped back and is now spraying the mirror with a clear liquid from a fancy purple and gold spray bottle. There is nothing printed on the bottle. The clear liquid runs down the mirror as Kurt continues to spray generously. When he reaches for a roll of paper towels on the table behind him, Blaine remembers Kurt telling him that he sometimes makes his own cleansers to avoid any negative affect that harsh chemicals might have on his skin.

Blaine steps back into the closet, still holding the towel in front of him loosely, and watches Kurt with fascination. Kurt is standing close to the mirror, vigorously wiping the mirror clean and dry with the paper towel. As he wipes each section dry, Blaine can see the contrast between what he had thought was a clear, clean image and the much sharper, crisper view he now has through the newly cleaned mirror. _Wow, that works really well. It’s going to be even more amazing when I clean it from my side, too. I’ll have to get the recipe for that home-made cleaner from Kurt._

Blaine takes a step closer to the mirror. He is standing directly across from Kurt now. He’s never been this close to Kurt’s face and he revels in the new discoveries he makes – the faint freckles that adorn his nose, the length of his eyelashes, the hint of stubble scattered across his cheeks, the tiny break in the line of his eyebrows. Kurt straightens and gives the mirror a sweeping, searching look. Blaine is very aware of their slight difference in height. A thrill vibrates through his stomach as he glances up to look into Kurt’s eyes – so very blue in this light. 

Kurt glances slightly down, as if he is gazing directly into Blaine’s eyes. Blaine’s breath hitches as Kurt leans in, eyes fluttering, lips moving toward Blaine’s own. Blaine leans closer as well, startled when his nose bumps into hard glass. He draws back and gasps as Kurt’s mouth opens slightly and his lips press gently against the glass. Blaine traces the outline of Kurt’s lips with his finger on his side of the mirror. He presses the finger to his own mouth and imagines the sweet press of lips on lips.

Kurt has his eyes open as he drags his mouth up and down the glass, watching himself as his lips part and his tongue sweeps slow circles against the cool surface. Blaine doesn’t know when he began to grow hard, but he is suddenly very aware of press of his straining erection against the towel he is still holding in front of him. Ignoring a twinge of guilt, Blaine snakes his other hand beneath the towel and pets his cock tentatively with a finger. Kurt continues to mouth at the mirror as he slips the buttons of his shirt through their button holes one by one, slipping the shirt off of his shoulders and giving Blaine a great view of his heaving, sculpted chest. Blaine backs toward the bench and drapes the towel over it before sitting down, never taking his eyes off Kurt.

Blaine grips his hard cock and begins to stroke in earnest, chanting in his head, _please, please, please_ as Kurt alternately licks seductively at the mirror and draws back to survey his full body with a smoldering look. _Yes, right there, that’s it, come on,_ Blaine pleads silently as Kurt runs his hands up and down his chest, dipping lower each time until at last, _yes,_ he works open the button of his jeans. He dips his fingers beneath his waistband and back up a few times, fixing the mirror with a sultry gaze. Blaine is panting now, pumping his fist furiously up and down his throbbing dick and carefully keeping his mind focused on nothing but _more, more, more._ Finally, Kurt pulls down the zipper, hooks his thumbs into his waistband and shimmies free of jeans and underwear in one fluid motion.

Kurt runs his hands up and down his body again, kicking his legs free of the clothing pooled on the floor. He grips his cock with a loose fist and it quickly lengthens beneath his hand. Blaine watches the hole in the tip expand and contract, already leaking a bead of pre-come as Kurt moves his hand languidly back and forth.

Kurt steps out of view for just an instant before returning with a chair from the kitchen in one hand and a small bottle in the other. He pops open the bottle of lube and spreads some generously across the surface of his cock, red and glistening and twitching slightly in the air. He pours out even more lube onto his hand and fixes a searing look at the mirror as he braces his clean hand on the back of the chair, leans slightly back and lifts one leg impossibly high before bending his knee and planting the bottom of his foot squarely on the mirror at shoulder level.

Blaine can feel himself start to salivate at the up-close view he now has of Kurt’s hole, wrinkled pink on the outer edges giving way to a glimpse of darkness at the center as Kurt pushes his pelvis closer to the glass, causing his hole to stretch and wink. Kurt’s balls swing gently back and forth above his hole as he moves. His balls are full, perfectly round, pink and smooth. _He must wax to give himself a better view._

Blaine can barely breathe as he watches Kurt trace a glistening, dripping finger around the outside of his hole. Kurt shivers and sighs and undulates his body as the finger moves in slow, methodical circles once, twice, three times before the tip of a finger pushes as the center. Blaine watches in rapt attention as Kurt’s finger suddenly dips in and starts to disappear, sucked in by Kurt’s pulsing hole. Kurt’s mouth drops open and he tilts his head back in ecstasy as his finger drags against his rim. He pulls the finger all the way out and presses two fingers together at the tip before plunging back in. He reaches and twists his wrist, then cries out. Blaine can see it more than he hears it, but when the faint “uhhhnngg” drifts through the mirror, Blaine shudders, his come shooting into the towel.

Without removing his fingers, Kurt allows the foot against the mirror to drop briefly to the floor and turns, putting his foot on the seat of the chair and leaning forward again. Now free, his other hand wraps around his cock and squeezes. Soon, Kurt is rocking his body back and forth, squirming between the fingers in his ass and the fist gripping his cock.

Blaine gives his sensitive cock a gentle squeeze and shudders in pleasure again as his eyes sweep across Kurt’s undulating form. His hand is flying up and down his cock, fingers twisting and plunging in and out of his ass, balls swinging tantalizingly back and forth. As his eyes move rapidly from one delightful sight to the next, he catches a glimpse of Kurt’s face and is transfixed. Kurt’s eyelashes flutter as if he is struggling between twin desires to watch his body in the mirror or to close his eyes and focus on the pleasure of his hands. His bottom lip glistens with a hint of saliva and his open mouth quivers as his eyes widen. Blaine revels in every expression that passes over Kurt’s face as his movements speed up and he cries out, his face alternately scrunching and freezing as he screams his pleasure, catching the streams of white in his hand.

Blaine continues to watch as Kurt pulls his fingers slowly out of his ass. He looks at his hands for a moment and strides off down the hallway. Blaine slumps back on the bench, spent. By the time he finishes getting dressed, Kurt is back in front of the mirror, hair clinging to his forehead in wet tendrils, clad in striped pajama bottoms and a plain grey t-shirt, spraying and wiping the mirror clean once more.

 

**November 19, 2022**

Blaine arrives at the tapas bar at 7pm to sign up for the open mic night. A big bearded man brusquely tells him he gets two songs and that since he’s new, he’ll be third up at around 8:15pm. Blaine texts the news to Kurt, who replies that he’ll be there in about half an hour. Blaine finds a table about in the middle of the room and sits down, sliding his guitar case under the table and throwing his jacket across the back of the chair beside him.

Kurt arrives just before eight o’clock and Blaine waves him over with a smile. “Hey, Kurt! I scoped the place out and it looks like we can order our tapas and drinks at the bar and bring them over here.”

“Okay, that sounds good,” Kurt replies, unbuttoning his jacket and unwinding the scarf from around his neck. He looks around the noisy room, which is about half-full. “When does the music get started?”

“We still have at least twenty minutes. And I’m up third,” explains Blaine. “Here, I grabbed a menu earlier.” Blaine passes the menu to Kurt.

After discussing the pros and cons of several items, they decide to start with spinach and chickpeas with olive oil and garlic, potato wedges in a spicy sauce, and fresh prawns with garlic and chili peppers. Blaine decides to try one of the margaritas – Beckstones is famous for them, after all. Blaine stands up and says, “Why don’t you stay here with our stuff while I order. What can I get you to drink?”

“Club soda with lime, please. Here, let me give you my share,” Kurt says, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got it covered,” Blaine says.

Kurt glares at Blaine suspiciously. “I thought this wasn’t a date,” he says flatly.

“It’s not,” Blaine insists.

“Then let me pay my share.” When Blaine shakes his head in protest, Kurt says, “It will make me really uncomfortable if you pay. That feels to close to a date and this is not a date.”

“You’re right. It’s not a date,” Blaine says as he pushes Kurt’s outstretched hand and the two twenty dollar bills out of the way. “That’s why you’re going to buy the second round. Friend.”

Kurt smiles and shrugs, putting the bills back in his wallet and the wallet back in his pocket. “Deal.”

Blaine takes a step toward the bar and then turns back to Kurt. “Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger to drink?”

“Oh yes. Trust me. I get a bit too sloppy when I drink and I really don’t want to risk that in a place like this. I’ve had one too many bad endings that started with a drink in a bar – another reason I’m not dating.” Kurt says the words lightly, but Blaine can see the pain in his eyes. _Did someone take advantage of him while he was drunk? Just how many creepy losers has Kurt had to deal with in his life? Do I count as one of them?_

Blaine only takes a few sips of his margarita and a few bites of the spinach and chickpeas before the burly bearded man mumbles an introduction for the first singer.

A petite girl with long, straight honey-blond hair teeters up to the stage in red high heels. She is wearing red capri pants, a white tank top, and a red and white striped jacket. “Hi everyone,” she says, simpering and leaning down to speak into the microphone. “I’m Sugar Motta, and I’m totally awesome. I’m going to sing one of my favorite numbers for you.” Sugar bounces a bit on her toes and waves at the audience, flashing a sweet smile.

She pounds out a few notes on the keyboard in front of her and swings her hips back and forth to the beat. Blaine is already nodding along and smiling, anticipating a fun performance from this woman who seems like a natural performer. That is, until she opens her mouth again.

_The minute you walked in the joint_

_I could tell you were a man of distinction_

_A real big spender_

 

Her voice is so grating, screechy and off-key that more than a few people put their hands over their ears discretely. Blaine glanced at Kurt with an apologetic look. Kurt scrunches up his brow in consternation and mouths, “Oh my God!”

Sugar only manages a few more lines of the song before the audience drowns her out with their booing and hissing. “Get off the stage,” one man yells. “You suck,” calls out another.

The burly emcee walks back up on the stage, holding his hands out in a plea for order. “You all are terrible,” Sugar yells into the microphone. “I’m awesome. I’m the best singer in this place.”

The next singer is an Asian girl dressed in black lace. She is wearing deep maroon lipstick and heavy blue eyeliner. She brings an iPod with her and plugs it into the speaker behind her. She doesn’t bother to introduce herself and when the music starts she practically screams out, “I kissed a girl and I liked it!” As she continues singing, she squats down with knees apart and chops violently at her thighs with her hands.

“Is this supposed to be singing, or performance art?” Kurt asks Blaine with a quirked eyebrow and a superior expression. Blaine nearly spits a gulp of margarita across the room as he chokes down a laugh. “I’m serious,” Kurt continues, speaking loudly into Blaine’s ear to be heard over the Asian girl’s yelling. “This is almost as bad as the tryouts gone wrong on American Idol.”

As the emcee calls him to the stage, Blaine resigns himself to the fact that while Beckstones is a great restaurant and a decent bar, it is not exactly a venue for a great singer to be discovered.

Blaine takes a moment to tune his guitar and introduces himself as he strums absent-mindedly. “Hi. My name is Blaine. This is my first time here at Beckstones. Everyone seems to be singing songs from at least 10 years ago, so I’m going to continue that trend with a favorite by the Beatles.”

_Hey Jude, don’t make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

Blaine watches the audience as their conversations begin to drop off and more and more people turn in to face the stage to listen in rapt attention. By the time he gets to, “Nah nah nah”, some people are actually swaying back and forth in time to the music or even singing along. Blaine smiles, opens his mouth wide and scrunches his eyes shut to belt out the last notes with confidence.

He nods and smiles at the brief wave of applause interspersed with a few hoots and whistles. He beams and says, “Thank you,” when he notices Kurt clapping rapidly, hands held up almost in front of his face.

“All right,” Blaine says. “So you like the oldies. How about some Billy Joel?” Blaine pauses, and when he hears a few claps and hoots he launches into Uptown Girl.

He gets even more catcalls and whistles at the end of this number. Blaine says a final, “Thank you” and hops off the stage. The emcee grabs his shoulder and says, “You did good, kid. Come back next time and I’ll hook you up with a later timeslot.”

Blaine makes his way back to the table, interrupted a few times by someone holding up a hand for a high five or grabbing his sleeve and pulling him in for a shouted, “Nice job, man,” in his ear.

Two more performers, including a four person band in which each member seem to be playing a different song and another guitar player who pauses both the music and his singing whenever he needs to change chords, the emcee announces a thirty-minute break before the next group of performers. Kurt turns to Blaine and says, “You did great. You were the best one so far by a long shot.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says, hoping the dim light in the bar covers the blush he feels burning up his cheeks. “Although we both know that’s a pretty low bar.”

Kurt laughs. “I guess you’re right. But you were still great. I love your song choices.” He stands up, leaning down to ask Blaine, “What can I get you for a refill?”

“Oh, thanks. I’ll definitely have another margarita. They really are good.”

“Any more food?”

“Maybe one more plate. Order something we haven’t tried yet – I don’t care what it is,” Blaine says.

Blaine is alone at the table for less than a minute when he hears a voice behind him, close to his ear. “I’m sorry I missed your set.”

Startled, Blaine spins around and stares at a tall, attractive man with a thin face and brown upswept hair. He smirks and raises one eyebrow suggestively. “After hearing all the hype, I had to get a closer look at you myself. And I must say, you’re even better in person.” The man pulls a chair close to Blaine and sits down, leaning in close and looking Blaine up and down appreciatively.

Blaine smiles and feels his heart speed up at the attention. “Well, they say flattery gets you everywhere, but I’m not sure how you could have heard anything about me. This is only my first time performing here.”

“Well, my band plays here almost every week. I usually skip the earlier sets – that when most of the loser and freaks – and new kids – perform. But some of my friends were here earlier.” He leans even closer, until his breath is ghosting on Blaine’s ear, causing him to shiver. His next words are low and guttural, spoken slowly and suggestively. “And they said you’re sex on a stick and sing like a dream.”

Blaine blushes and looks down demurely as the handsome stranger continues, “You know, your bashful schoolboy act is super hot. What do you say we get out of here so I can show you a good time?” The man has his arm around the back of Blaine’s chair and he leans even closer, until their faces are mere inches apart.

Blaine glances down at the man’s long, jeans-clad legs for a moment before trailing his gaze slowly back up to his eyes. A hot thrill is pounding in his groin and radiating through his body until every nerve up through his fingertips and toes are throbbing and on alert. Coyly, he says, “I don’t even know your name.”

The stranger cocks an eyebrow and says, “It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

Blaine’s mouth drops open for a moment as he stares at the stranger incredulously. It is rare for Blaine to run into someone so blatant and aggressive in his desires, and something about it fuels that throbbing need within him. _It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hook-up. I haven’t been out lately. Not since I’ve been spending so much time with Kurt. Kurt!_ This jolts Blaine out of his lusty haze. He leans back in his chair, gaining some distance from the other man. “Actually, I’m here with someone.”

With no change in facial expression and without missing a beat, the man insists, “It doesn’t have to take long. I live just around the corner and I can have you back here before my set starts.”

“I can’t leave. I told you, I’m with someone. He’s at the bar getting refills and he’ll be back any minute,” Blaine says forcefully.

The other man grins and leans closer to Blaine, whispering into his ear, “Then I think there might be a bathroom stall with our names on it. He won’t even notice you’re gone.”

“Wow,” Blaine exclaims. “You’re really out there.”

“I just know what I want and I’m not afraid to go after it,” the stranger replies with a grin.

“Well, I appreciate your offer,” Blaine says politely. “But this guy I’m with – he’s really great. And I don’t want to mess things up with him in any way.”

The man nods knowingly. “I get it. You’re still trying to get him in the sack.” He pulls a pen out of his pocket and scribbles digits on the napkin he pulls out from under Blaine’s empty glass. Pushing the napkin toward Blaine with one finger, he says, “Give me a call if it doesn’t work out with your great guy.” The man leans in again to whisper seductively in Blaine’s ear. “Actually, you should call me either way. If he’s really so great, all three of us could get together.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and he freezes as he sees Kurt approaching the table, holding a tray with their drinks and food above his head as he weaves through the crowd. The man continues whispering in his ear as Blaine’s panic rises. “You can take him in your mouth while I fuck you, in and out, nice and slow.”

Kurt stops in front of the table and gasps, losing his grip on the tray for a moment. The glasses tilt and clatter together, liquid sloshing precariously, but Kurt clutches the tray tightly and manages to lower it to the table before he fixes his shocked gaze on the man sitting beside Blaine.

“Oh my God! You know each other?” Kurt demands in a strangled voice.

“Well if it isn’t Kurt Hummel, the ice queen himself. Long time no see. Your friend and I were just getting acquainted,” the man says the last sentence slowly, each word dripping with innuendo.

Blaine whips his head back and forth between Kurt and the man beside him and parrots Kurt’s words incredulously. “Wait, you two know each other? How?”

Kurt gestures frantically, his hands moving in rapid circles. “This is Sebastian Smythe.” Kurt’s enunciates the next words in an exaggerated fashion. “My last neighbor. You know, the one who lived in the apartment before you moved in.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open in shock and he scoots his chair away from Sebastian, forcing his arm off the back of the chair. He snaps his mouth shut and bites down on the inside of his cheek in his effort to keep from saying _it’s creepy neighbor number two._

“Oh yes,” says Sebastian, smirking. “Kurt spent an entire year living next door to me, desperately pretending that he didn’t want to ride my dick.”

“I would never go near that thing,” Kurt spits out venomously. “God, you even _smell_ like Craigslist. Your dick probably requires a toxic waste permit.”

“Fun,” Sebastian says flatly, flashing Kurt a smile that looks more like a call to war. He stands up and makes a show of tilting his head downward to look at Kurt, who is a few inches shorter. “You can pretend all you want, Kurt. But I know exactly what kind of a kinky bastard you are when you think no one’s looking.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kurt growls.

Blaine jumps up from his chair and stands between them, facing Kurt. _Oh God, I can’t let him find out about the mirror._ “Don’t listen to this asshole. He’s just trying to get under your skin. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.” Blaine shrugs into his jacket and reaches down to pick up his guitar case from under the table.

Sebastian bursts into laughter. “Oh, wait a second. This is rich. You live in the apartment I used to live in? I think I know exactly why you’re in such a hurry to get Kurt away from me.”

Blaine freezes, guitar in his hand, praying that the burning he feels in his cheeks isn’t manifesting as a visible blush. Kurt fixes him with a questioning look. _I’m not going to lose him. Not over this._ Blaine turns to Sebastian and argues vehemently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I want to get Kurt – and myself – away from you because you’re a creep.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy it,” says Sebastian dryly. “You’re good at playing the nice guy, but I’ve got your number. You and I have an awful lot in common.”

Blaine stares at Sebastian, pleading silently with his eyes. But before either of them can say anything more, Kurt marches up to Sebastian and speaks in a low and dangerous tone. “I don’t like the way you treat my friend. He is nothing like you. He is kind and honest and polite and respectful. You, on the other hand, are an utter and complete creep, who wouldn’t know respectful or polite if it slapped you in your smirky, meerkat face.”

Kurt tugs on Blaine’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Blaine scrambles to keep up with Kurt’s rapid pace toward the door. He reaches into his pocket for the napkin with Sebastian’s phone number. He lets Kurt walk out the door and then he turns and locks eyes with Sebastian, who is still standing at their table.  He holds the napkin up high in the air and lets it drop to the floor before spinning on his heel and out the door. 

Blaine sprints for a few steps, catching up with Kurt and falling into step beside him.

“Oh God Kurt, I’m so sorry about that.”

“Well, now you’ve met creepy neighbor number two. He’s a jerk, but at least he wasn’t as bad as the guy before him. With Sebastian, it was pretty much the kind of stuff he said just now, but usually dialed up a notch. Most of the time, I just ignored his come-ons and his weird suggestive comments. But it does get tiring to get hit on two or three times a week for an entire year. That guy just wouldn’t give up.”

“Yeah, he kept trying to give me his number, but I wouldn’t take it.”

“Good. You really should stay away from him,” Kurt says earnestly as they stepped through the turnstile in the subway station. “I wasn’t kidding about the toxic waste permit. I’m surprised he didn’t install a revolving door with all the hook-ups he had in that apartment. I hope you did a good job cleaning it before you got your furniture.”

Blaine nods and murmurs, “Mm-hmm”, but shivers a bit at the thought of Sebastian fucking an endless stream of random hookups in the bedroom where he sleeps. _I definitely need to get that organic cleanser recipe from Kurt. Maybe I can go over the walls again. Oh God. Kurt. Did Sebastian let his hook-ups watch Kurt, too?_

“Thank God you moved in,” Kurt says enthusiastically. “I don’t think I could have handled another creeper.”

Blaine smiles in response and tries to enjoy the sensation of Kurt’s thigh bumping against his own as they sit beside each other on the train. But he can’t stop replaying Sebastian’s words: “You and I have an awful lot in common,” in his head. _Somehow I have Kurt fooled into thinking I’m respectful, polite_ _and honest. But I know better. And so does Sebastian._

Later that night, Blaine stands in his closet for a long time, staring at the pieces of drywall stacked neatly against the wall and wishes he could be the person Kurt described.

**November 20, 2022**

The evening after the Beckstone’s gig, Blaine is checking his mailbox when he hears a loud thud. Startled, he jerks his head toward the front door. He sees Mrs. Gidly, an elderly woman who moved into an apartment on the first floor a few months ago, struggling to jiggle the door handle and turn the key, a very full bag of groceries smashed between her chest and the window. Blaine leaps toward the door and pulls it open gently, reaching out his hand to catch the grocery bag.

“Mrs. Gidly, hi!” Blaine pulls the grocery bag more fully into his arms as he pushes the door wide open with his back and lets her in. “Let me help you with this.”

“Thank you so much. You’re a dear man,” she says, heading up the half flight of stairs to her landing. She hoists her purse strap more fully onto her shoulder and flips through her keys for a moment before fitting one into her apartment door and swinging it open.

“I can take that from here,” she says, gesturing at Blaine to pass over the bag of groceries. He gives it to her and she promptly sets it down on the floor just inside her apartment. “Thank you, young man. What is your name again?”

“It’s Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Have a good evening, Mrs. Gidly,” Blaine says with a smile and a wave before turning to walk up the rest of the stairs to his apartment.

“Oh, wait,” she calls to him. Blaine stops and turns back to face her. “You’re Blaine Anderson? I’m glad I ran into you because I would have forgotten to tell you otherwise.”

“Tell me what?” Blaine asks.

“Someone was looking for you earlier. Right before I left for the grocery store, in fact. He was standing out in front of the building and he asked for you by name.”

A chill runs down Blaine’s spine. _Sebastian wouldn’t show up here, would he?_ “Wh-what did he l-look like?” he stammers.

“Look like?” Mrs. Gidly sounds surprised at the question. “Well, let me think…he was tall and thin, about your age, brown hair. I don’t think he had glasses,” she says, a hand on her chin and a look of concentration on her face.

Blaine can feel the blood drain from his face and he grips the banister hard. His next words come out strangled as he struggles to keep his voice under control. “Did he say anything else? Like what he wanted?”

Blaine is already picturing a dozen scenarios, all of which involve Sebastian making a barrage of increasingly sick and sadistic requests in exchange for his silence about the mirror. Lost in horrific imaginings, Blaine misses the first half of his neighbor’s response. “ – tomorrow night.”

“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” Blaine asks in a rush.

“I just said that I told him to come back later tomorrow night. You might want to make sure you’re home by five thirty tomorrow. I don’t think they make deliveries later than six o’clock.”

“Excuse me?” Blaine feels like he is still missing part of the conversation. “Deliveries?”

“Yes. I think he’s with UPS, or maybe FedEx. I can never remember which one has the brown uniform,” Mrs. Gidly explains. “I told him I’d be happy to pass the package on to you, but I guess he needs you to sign for it.”

“Oh,” Blaine breathes out a relieved sigh, remembering the scale that he ordered a few weeks ago. “Yes, I am expecting a delivery. Thank you, Mrs. Gidly. I’ll come home earlier tomorrow.”

**December 2, 2022**

It takes almost two weeks for Blaine to stop imagining he sees Sebastian on every street corner. There are several heart-stopping moments when Blaine sees a familiar-looking head of hair or a tall, lanky figure walking toward him, before the image resolves itself into just another stranger on the busy Bronx streets.

In an effort to distance himself from Sebastian, Blaine avoids Beckstones and searches for a more upscale venue for his next gig. He also avoids watching Kurt in the mirror, keeping the closet door locked except when he needs to get clothes. He goes out as much as possible, taking walks around the neighborhood, staying late at work, stopping at a bar or a coffee shop for a quick drink or to warm up, logging extra hours at the gym.

Being at home is too distracting. He spends too much time staring at the locked closet door or jumping up from his desk chair, abandoning his computer to tug on the door handle for the eighteenth time in one night. Some nights he gives in, turning the key in the lock with shaking hands, not sure whether he should pray for Kurt to be in view or not. When he does see Kurt, he sighs in relief, sinking onto the bench to watch whatever Kurt is doing – watching TV, reading a magazine, sorting the mail – it doesn’t matter because just seeing him lets Blaine breathe again.

Unfortunately, seeing Kurt also makes him think about Sebastian – about how he watched Kurt and got off to him and harassed him. He tells himself that he is different. That he watches Kurt to get to know him better, to help him, to be a better friend to him. It’s not until those few moments of lying still in bed at night, no distractions at hand, willing sleep to take him, that he becomes acutely aware of that nagging sickness in the pit of his stomach.

 

**December 10, 2022**

“Blaine, you need to keep your arms out and hold still or I’ll stick you,” Kurt mumbles around a pin in his mouth as he pushes Blaine’s arms a little further away from his body. “Okay, right there,” he says, pinching the silky fabric together and sliding the pin through. “Now turn around.”

Blaine spins slowly to face Kurt, arms still outstretched awkwardly. They are standing in his living room, which is bathed in the light of every movable lamp from his apartment, and several from Kurt’s. Kurt insisted on having adequate light to complete this fitting of the suit jacket he is making for Blaine.

“Okay, we’re almost done. I just need to take a few measurements, and then I can finish this up with the sewing machine later.” Kurt is speaking briskly, using a tone he often reserves for business clients. He unfurls a flexible measuring tape from it’s tightly wound ball, and holds it up, one hand hovering over Blaine’s armpit and the other pressing the tape gently to his wrist. “Let me jot that down,” Kurt says absently, turning to grab his notepad and pencil.

Blaine feels his heart beat speeding up and he struggles to keep his expression neutral as Kurt’s hands bump against his arm and wrist. Kurt walks around Blaine, his eyes sweeping over Blaine’s chest and back critically. “I need a shoulder width,” he mumbles, holding the tape out across Blaine’s shoulder blades and leaning in to read the measurement. Blaine shivers a little when a puff of Kurt’s breath tickles the back of his neck.

“Last one,” Kurt announces, walking back around to face Blaine again. He reaches his arms behind Blaine’s back, passing the end of the tape from one hand to the other between Blaine’s back and his jacket. Blaine closes his eyes for a moment when he feels the warmth of Kurt’s hands through his thin shirt. Blaine relishes the moment that they are pressed practically chest to chest before Kurt steps back and pulls the tape tight, fingers dancing slightly across his stomach as he holds the tape in place and bends down to see the number. “Okay, all done. You can relax now,” Kurt says as he jots down the last measurement in his notebook.

Blaine shrugs off the jacket and places it carefully on a hanger that he hooks against the back of a chair. “I don’t know how to thank you, Kurt. It’s not even finished and it’s amazing already.”

Kurt smiles at the praise. “I’m glad you like it. When I’m finished with these alterations, it’s going to look fabulous on you. You have really good proportions, you know. You could be a model.”

Blaine laughs loudly, head thrown back. “Yeah, right. If they ever need models for midget clothing. But seriously, don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I mean, yes, runway models usually are a bit taller. But you have wonderful proportions – broad shoulders, narrow waist.” Kurt looks Blaine up and down, humming appreciatively. “And you’re certainly handsome enough. You may not be a good fit for the runway, but I could see you rock a photo shoot – or a commercial.”

Blaine’s heart stops when he hears this. “You think I’m handsome?” In a moment of ridiculous tension, his brain supplies the lyrics to an old song, _You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on._

“Of course, Blaine. You’re very good looking,” Kurt says sincerely.

Blaine aches with longing. He takes a deep breath, mustering up his courage, and takes a step closer to his friend. “Kurt,” he breathes, reaching a trembling hand toward Kurt’s cheek.

Kurt shrinks from Blaine’s touch and takes a step back, wincing when the back of his calves bump into the coffee table. “Blaine,” he says sternly. “What I just said? It wasn’t an invitation.”

Blaine lets his hand fall back to his side with a sigh. “Kurt, we’ve been friends since the summer, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I know that we’ve had some rocky times in there, but you trust me now, don’t you?” Blaine asks.

“Yes,” Kurt blinks uncertainly. “At least, I think I do.”

“And you find me attractive,” Blaine says, smiling. “At least objectively.”

“Blaine, I know where this is leading. Please, just don’t go there.” He side steps out of the path of the coffee table and puts even more distance between them.

“Why not, Kurt? I’m not Dave or Sebastian or any of those other guys. I really like being friends with you, but I think we can be so much more. I really want to be more,” Blaine pleads.

“I like being friends with you, too,” Kurt says firmly. “Please don’t ruin it.”

“But dating me wouldn’t ruin anything. It would just make everything better,” Blaine insists.

Kurt answers carefully, as if speaking to a child. “Blaine, right now you’re my friend and we can talk with each other. If we get together and someone gets hurt – and someone will get hurt, it’s inevitable – then who do we have? No one. Now how is that better for either of us?”

“No one has to get hurt,” Blaine says softly. Kurt makes no sign of hearing him.

With practiced brightness, Kurt says, “It’s late. We should both get some sleep.” Kurt grabs the jacket off the back of the chair and walks toward the door. Just before shutting the door behind him, Kurt says, “Coffee tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Blaine says, forcing a smile and wishing for the thousandth time that he can someday find the right words, the right combination of things to do and say, to convince Kurt to take a chance.

Later that night, after tossing and turning for an hour, Blaine throws off the covers and wanders back to his living room. He opens his guitar case and lifts out the guitar, then grabs a few sheets of scratch paper and a pen from the sheet music compartment. Sitting on the couch, he places the guitar on his lap and strums for a few minutes, humming along a few different melodies until he comes up with something that fits his melancholy mood. His fingers tap out a beat on the side of the drum as words come to his mind. Alternately, he strums, taps, writes, hums and sings in fits and starts. Glancing down at the page, he starts from the beginning, putting the words and music together.

_Don’t be afraid_

_Don’t be afraid, I will help you_

_Open up your heart_

_“_ No, that’s not quite right…” Blaine picks up the page of hastily scribbled lyrics and scratches out the last line. Staring at the page, he taps the pen against the side of the guitar and thinks for a few minutes before starting the alternating strum, tap, scribble, hum, sing pattern once more.

**March 29, 2023**

**[This section is a continuation from the[last section](http://archiveofourown.org/works/848553/chapters/1621390#callthiswhatyouwant) of Chapter 1]**

Blaine paces the floor, his heart racing and trickles of sweat carving uncomfortable paths under his arms, as he waits for Kurt to summon him for their morning walk to the coffee shop. Every few steps he pauses, bowing his head and covering his eyes with his hands in an effort to compose himself, but each time he does this he hears Kurt say, “I just wanted to hear your voice,”as he slowly strokes his cock.

Blaine jumps and stifles a startled shout at the loud knock on the door. “Just a second,” he calls as he dashes to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and smooth down his hair. He has no idea what to say.

They don’t talk about it. Instead, Kurt smiles and chatters about his plans for a flea market trip, and generally acts as if not a single thing has changed. _Does he think I don’t know he was masturbating? Does he not know that I was too?_

They continue to not talk about it, even after Kurt calls him again late that night, with a breathy, “I just wanted to hear your voice. Got any more stories for me?”

Blaine stops breathing and has to force himself to inhale.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks.

“I’m here,” Blaine replies. Convinced he must have misunderstood what Kurt is asking for, he says, “Did I tell you about the gag gift that Eric gave one of the nurses for her birthday last week? I wish we had gotten her reaction on camera. It would have been a real hit on Youtube.”

“You did tell me about that,” Kurt deadpans. Blaine cringes a bit, desperate to think of something witty to say to keep Kurt on the phone. Before he can respond, however, Kurt continues with a flirty lilt, “I was hoping you had another story along the lines of what you told me last night.”

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath. _Is Kurt asking for phone sex? If he is, and if I can just make this phone sex good enough, safe enough, maybe he’ll want to be more than just friends._ “Okay. Um, yes. A story about someone seeing something naughty…” Blaine trails off as he walks into the closet and sees Kurt kneeling naked in front of the mirror, cock in his hand.

“Now that sounds promising,” Kurt purrs, holding his fist loose as he rubs slowly up and down his cock.

Blaine shuts his eyes for a moment to focus. A friend from college had dragged him to a sex club on a dare. It was a co-ed club and Blaine spent most of the time feeling very self-conscious in his underwear – the rules wouldn’t allow for anyone to wear much more than that – and trying not to attract anyone’s attention. He did hear some pornographic moans and caught more than a few glances of couples making out, including two men. He doesn’t really have a good story about the sex club, but it provides a good setting. Blaine searches his mind for a good porno scene he can adapt, but all he sees is Kurt – fucking himself on his fingers, stroking his cock, fucking into himself with one dildo while sucking on another, bobbing his mouth up and down his own cock, and sucking his own come off a finger with a seductive look.

“Are you still there?” Kurt asks, hand pausing on his cock as he fumbles the phone in his hand and scans the screen with searching eyes.

“Yes, sorry.” Blaine settles onto the bench. He desperately wants Kurt to touch himself again. “So yes, I have a story like that. I can tell you about the time I went to a sex club.”

“Oh my God! You were in an orgy?” Kurt squeaks, curling into himself and staring into the middle distance with both hands frustratingly far away from his body.

“No, no – of course not,” Blaine hurriedly corrects. “No, those places aren’t really like that. I mean, some people go there to have sex with multiple people. But a lot of people go just to have sex with their partners in a place where they can also see – or hear other people having sex. It’s a turn on – seeing. And being seen.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” says Kurt as he turns to look at himself in the mirror. He stretches languidly and asks, “What did you see?” Kurt’s hand is running lightly up and down the inside of one thigh. Then, with a slight hitch in his breath, Kurt asks, “Or were you the one being seen?”

Seeing Kurt’s cock stir with interest at this thought, Blaine revises the story once more in his mind. “Um, a little of both. A boyfriend took me there when we were in college. I was a little nervous about being there, but he brought me to this one room that had a few beds and sofas in it. We were naked and he sat me down on the sofa and he knelt down between my legs and started stroking me, soft and slow.”

“Mm-hmm,” says Kurt, who is now running a loose fist up and down his own cock again. “Was anyone watching you?”

“Yes,” breathes out Blaine as he fishes his own hard dick out of his boxers and matches Kurt’s rhythm. “There was one guy watching from across the room.”

“What was he doing?” Kurt asks slowly, squeezing at the tip of his glistening cock and rubbing a thumb over the head.

“He was touching himself, nice and slow, matching his timing to ours,” says Blaine as he traces a curvy pattern across the head of his cock. “Derek – the guy I was with – stood back up for a moment to whisper in my ear…” Blaine trails off as he gets absorbed in the sensation of his warm hand squeezing his shaft.

“What did he say,” whispers Kurt in a low voice, flashing a smoldering look at the mirror that nearly causes Blaine to gasp.

Blaine releases his grip on his throbbing cock for a moment and concentrates on the story he is inventing as he goes along.

“He breathed into my ear for a moment, and then he whispered ‘keep watching – and tell me what you see.’ He dragged his tongue down my neck and my body and then wrapped his warm mouth around my shaft and bobbed his head.” Blaine is gripping the base of his dick, trying to keep his voice steady as he watches Kurt trace a hand from his neck down his body to wrap around his own cock, mirroring the story Blaine tells.

“What did you see?” Kurt asks shakily, as he drips lube onto his straining member and starts to stroke it faster.

“First I was watching the guy across the room who was stroking himself and watching Derek’s mouth move back and forth on my cock. It felt so good,” Blaine groans as Kurt starts sucking on two of his fingers in earnest, his other hand still pumping rhythmically up and down his cock.

Kurt pulls his fingers out of his mouth slowly, dragging his bottom lip into a pout as he stares intently at the mirror. He’s facing the mirror at the perfect angle and from Blaine’s point of view Kurt’s sultry look is directed right at him. “Mmmm, tell me more,” Kurt moans softly before plunging his fingers back into his mouth and sucking around them hungrily.

Blaine can hear the faint slurping sounds amplified through his earpiece and his hand speeds up on his cock as he stifles a moan. “Then two more guys came in the room. They were already naked and they had their hands all over each other, roaming up and down the others’ bodies as they stumbled into the room and toward the bed next to us.”

Blaine watches, entranced as Kurt pulls his fingers from his mouth with a pop and draws wet trails up and down his torso as his other hand continues to pump his dick. _How far will he go with acting this out?_

“One of the guys was tall, thin and lightly toned. He was in front. Behind him was an even taller, broader guy with bulging biceps and a chiseled torso. The taller guy pushed the other one forward forcefully and bent him over the bed, kicking his legs apart.” Blaine speaks rapidly, panting and nearly breathless with excitement as Kurt bends himself over the arm of the sofa, legs held wide apart and ass facing the mirror.

Kurt is panting as well, his quick breathing punctuated by occasional babbles of, ‘ungh’, and, ‘ahh’. When Blaine doesn’t immediately continue, he stills the hand on his cock and asks, “What did you do?”

“Well, Derek was still sucking my dick with just the right pressure and it felt incredible. And I was getting really excited knowing that one guy is watching me and now I’m watching these two incredibly hot guys getting it on right in front of me. I gripped Derek’s head tight and started fucking in and out of his mouth just as the guy in front of me started to work a finger in and out of the other guy’s hole.”

Blaine nearly cries out in triumph as Kurt reaches behind himself for the lube and applies some to his fingers before circling his hole with a finger and plunging in. Blaine starts to give a play-by-play, saying, “he pushed his finger in and then slowly drew it out, then in, then out as his partner shuddered and squirmed in pleasure.” Blaine whimpers softly as he watches Kurt’s finger sinking in and drawing out of his hole in time to Blaine’s words. “He adds another finger and now the other guy is hard and trembling, crying out and begging him ‘fuck me, please just fuck me.”

Kurt bites his lip in an effort to muffle a whine as he plunges three fingers rapidly in and out of his hole while rocking his cock in and out of his tight fist in at a punishing pace.

Watching Kurt’s ass clench and tremble around his fingers is too much for Blaine. His cock spasms, shooting in streaks across the floor and spattering drops of white onto his side of the mirror as he comes with a shout.

Kurt’s body shudders a second later as he moans out a pornographic, “uhhhngghh,” through Blaine’s earpiece and slumps against the sofa, three fingers still buried in his twitching ass.

Blaine’s gaze bounces from the phone beside him to his dripping and softening cock to Kurt’s prostrate form on the other side of the mirror. They remain silent for a long time, just the faint breaths over the phone line connecting them.

As his breathing slows, Blaine focuses on the muscular lines of Kurt’s back. He reaches his hand forward and strokes the air, imagining Kurt’s smooth skin beneath his hand. He closes his eyes for a moment and he can almost feel Kurt beside him, warm to the touch as his arm closes around him and pulls him close, snuggling beside each other on the bed.

Blaine breaks into a huge grin as scenes run through his mind in rapid succession. Kurt smiling and bouncing excitedly in his chair as they discuss their favorite scenes from the Sound of Music and nibble on delicious appetizers at a candlelit restaurant. Walking down a busy street at night, Kurt’s warm hand clasped in his, leaning close together as they whisper about what they want to do to each other as soon as they get home. Kissing sweetly as they stand in Kurt’s living room, his fingers in Kurt’s hair and Kurt’s hands rubbing up and down his back. Wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind and helping secure his tie before leaning in to kiss his neck as they watch themselves in the mirror.

 _The mirror!_ Blaine’s eyes fly open at the reminder of the barrier between them and of his betrayal of Kurt’s trust. Desperate to bridge the gap between the reality of their separation and his pleasant daydreams, Blaine discards dozens of possible ways to start a conversation before finally forcing out with a nervous laugh, “Well, that was – ”

“Yeah, but it’s late now and we both need our sleep. Good night, Blaine.” Kurt doesn’t even give him time to say good night back before he has ended the call.

 

**March 30, 2023**

Blaine is wrenched from sleep by a jarringly loud beeping sound. It takes his sleep-addled brain a few seconds to register that it is the ringtone he reserved for calls from the hospital’s therapy department main line. He lunges for the phone, knocking several other items off his bedside table and sending them clattering to the floor. At last his hand grips the phone and he flips it over, nearly blinding himself with its sharp glow in the dark room. “Blaine Anderson,” he answers groggily.

“Hi, Blaine. It’s Nancy. Sorry to wake you up, but Janice and Steve are both on vacation and Andy just called in sick. We’re going to need you here as soon as possible.”

“Oh, wow. I’ll get myself together as soon as I can. I can be there in maybe thirty or forty-five minutes,” Blaine says sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand and stifling a yawn. “Is Andy okay?”

“It’s not too serious. He thinks he might have one of those stomach bugs. They usually go away in one or two days. But in the meantime, we’re going to need you to work double shifts.”

“Okay, Nancy. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you soon,” Blaine says, jumping out of bed and striding toward the bathroom with the phone still to his ear.

Once on the train, Blaine sends an apologetic text to Kurt, explaining that work was getting in the way of their typical morning coffee excursion. Work is so busy that it is well into the afternoon before Blaine has a moment to check his phone between bites of his sandwich. A thrill shivers through his body and his lips automatically twitch upwards when he sees a message from Kurt. But his smile falters a bit when he reads the text, “Sorry that you had to go in early today. A client is having a party I need to attend tonight. So I won’t see you until the morning. That is, if you’re back to normal work hours.”

Blaine falls into bed almost as soon as he gets home, anticipating another early morning call from Nancy, but his sleep is uninterrupted. After waking to his alarm, he calls Nancy and she verifies that he is back to normal hours.

**March 31, 2023**

Kurt knocks at Blaine’s door at their usual time and they walk dizzyingly close for those first few moments before they get to the stairwell and Kurt steps away. Kurt is chattering nonstop about the cocktail party he attended last night. A wealthy client threw the party to show off her newly designed apartment to her equally wealthy friends and she invited Kurt to thank him for his great work. Whenever anyone complemented her on the beauty of the living space, she introduced them to Kurt. “I’m going to get so much business from this,” Kurt squeaks excitedly, bouncing slightly on his toes as they walk. “And all of it in the swankiest part of the Upper East Side. It’s amazing!”

Blaine nods distractedly. He only says a quick, “mmm-hmm”, or “oh, really”, when Kurt pauses expectantly. But Kurt doesn’t seem to notice Blaine’s lack of rapt attention as he continues to speak at a rapid pace.

When they reach their table, coffees in hand, Blaine interrupts with, “Kurt, I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” Kurt asks innocently.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Blaine says with an edge of annoyance in his voice. “Maybe we could talk about what is going on with our recent late night phone calls?”

Kurt has his coffee cup to his lips and he takes another long swallow before he responds. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” Kurt looks down at the table and twists his fingers together, his cheeks turning a light pink.

Blaine sighs. “Look, Kurt. I’m trying here, but I really just don’t understand. We are great friends, we have this amazing chemistry over the phone, and you know I really want to date you. What are you so afraid of?”

“It’s just – you know that my history with dating isn’t very good,” Kurt bites his lip, gaze still fixed to the table and fingers twisting together more and more violently.

“Hey, my dating history isn’t so great, either. But I’m willing to give this a chance. You’re so worth the risk to me, Kurt,” Blaine pleads earnestly.

Kurt pushes his chair back a few inches from the table, shaking his head. “No, it’s different. You don’t know. I mean, I told you a little bit, but you don’t know the details. You don’t really know what’s happened to me.” Kurt looks up at Blaine with wet eyes. “It’s always the same. I think I can trust someone, but as soon as we go beyond being friends…”

“Kurt, I’m not going to hurt you.” Blaine places a hand over Kurt’s, stilling them.

Kurt startles and stares at their hands on the table for a moment, before sliding his hands from under Blaine’s and out of reach, on his own thighs.

Blaine gazes longingly into Kurt’s eyes and pleads again. “Please Kurt. Please give me a chance. Please go out with me.”

“No, Blaine, I can’t.”

“But – ”

“I can’t,” Kurt repeats firmly. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? Isn’t it your regular gig night tomorrow?”

Blaine stares at Kurt, clamping his jaw shut against his urge to keep arguing. _But we’d be perfect together. Why can’t you just take a risk? Please take a chance on me._ Taking a deep breath, Blaine manages to respond with, “Yes, and I’d really like you to come.” When Kurt starts to back his chair further from the table and shake his head again, Blaine quickly adds, “Just as a friend.”

Kurt stops and hesitantly asks, “As a friend?”

“Yes, as a friend,” Blaine repeats. _I’ll be the greatest friend to you. If you can just see that, I know you’ll trust me to be more._

Kurt’s shoulders drop and he smiles, making eye contact with Blaine again. “Well, I think I actually can do that. In fact, I think it’s just crazy that I haven’t been to a show of yours since November.”

Blaine laughs. “That open mic at Beckstones? That hardly counts as a show. That was more like two songs worth of struggling to be heard over all the screaming and bottles breaking.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” Kurt grins, leaning back in his chair. “It would’ve been bad even if we hadn’t run into that douchebag Sebastian.”

“Yes, I’m sure glad we haven’t seen him around again.” Blaine’s smile falters for a moment until he reminds himself that he is nothing like Kurt’s previous neighbor. “The Blue Lagoon gig is totally different,” he continues, smiling again. “I get a full forty-five minute set and everyone either listens or at least just talks quietly while they have some coffee or dinner.”

“Haven’t you played there three or four times already?” Kurt asks sheepishly. “I feel really bad that I haven’t seen the show yet.”

“Two times. And you couldn’t have seen it. You had rehearsals those nights.”

“But I don’t have any rehearsals tomorrow night,” Kurt says coyly. “So I’ll definitely be there.”

“I’m so glad you can come,” Blaine says sincerely. He pulls out his phone and adds, “I’ll text you the address. I’ll be starting around nine.”

**April 1, 2023**

“Hello everyone,” Blaine gives a little wave and a smile to the audience of about twenty diners scattered throughout the dimly lit restaurant. “I’m Blaine, and I’ll be singing and playing a little guitar for you tonight.” Most of the people are still focused on their friends or significant others at their tables, conducting their chitchat quietly as a small nod to respect for the guy at the microphone.

“So I’m really excited to be here at the Blue Lagoon for the third time. And I guess it’s official now, that you can, uh…,” Blaine’s heart jumps as he spots Kurt darting in and settling into a seat near the back. He has changed into another spectacularly tailored suit – perhaps another one of his own creations – this one in iridescent maroon. Realizing he has fallen silent, Blaine forces his eyes to the front of the room. “Right. Sorry. I was saying you can catch me here the first Thursday of every month.”

Blaine begins picking a soft melody on the guitar as he finishes his introduction. “So I’ll start with an old favorite of mine – here’s Cough Syrup for all you _Young the Giant_ fans out there _.”_

As Blaine works his way through covers of songs from every era – Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, Billy Joel, and even Katy Perry. Only a few songs into his set, Blaine notices that the patrons have mostly fallen silent and are watching and listening to him with rapt attention. Blaine only dares a few furtive glances at Kurt, who is watching him attentively, leaning forward in his seat, his mouth slightly open in that adorable way.

For the most part, Blaine does that acting trick he learned when he had the lead in his high school musical. He looks at the tops of people’s heads and shifts his gaze periodically to different heads throughout the room. He knows it looks to the audience as though he is looking right at them, but he avoids the distraction of looking into anyone’s eyes. A few times he closes his own eyes to belt out the notes. When he glances a few times at Kurt, he is smiling his closed-lipped, Mona Lisa smile of mystery.

It takes until nearly the end of the set before he finds the courage to sing an original song. He’s not sure when Kurt will see him perform again, so he wants to sing this now. “Here’s one I know that none of you have ever heard before. It’s a little something I’ve been working on for a long time. A good friend once suggested that I could write a song just for myself. I’ve been working on it for a long time, and just put the finishing touches on it last night. I was planning to keep it to myself. But I know that sharing something difficult can be healing. So I’m going to share this song with you tonight.” Blaine can’t help looking at Kurt as he says, “I hope you like it.”

Heart pounding wildly, Blaine closes his eyes as he strums the opening chords and sings.

_Well I was thinking, if you’d like to stay awhile_

_Throw all your bags in the closet, coat up on the wall_

_And lay your head on this pillow that’s resting there next to mine_

_I’d like to see you with my morning coffee_

_And hear the laughter inside you fill up all the halls_

_Come in ’cause I’ve had this space saved for you from the start_

_Don’t be afraid – I will help you move into my heart_

_My heart_

_Well I was thinking, if you’d stay awhile_

_We’d start a scrapbook of memories, walking down the aisle_

_Make up this family of you and me intertwined_

_And be near you, when dark clouds hide your skies_

_And run my hand through your hair, whisper lullabies_

_So come in ’cause I’ve had this space saved for you from the start_

_Don’t be afraid – I will help you move into my heart_

_My heart_

Blaine sings most of this song with his eyes closed or fixed firmly at the back wall, just above the heads of his audience. At the final, “Don’t be afraid”, he sweeps a gaze across the faces of the audience, ranging from smiles and intent looks to those who are whispering to friends or looking at their phones. But then his gaze locks with Kurt’s and Kurt is staring at him transfixed, as if seeing something amazing for the very first time.

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath as the audience claps and hoots its approval. “Thank you so much. Again, I’m Blaine. And I’ll be back next month. Hope to see you then!” Blaine waves again and the audience claps again politely.

Blaine is still making his way through the small crowd of ten or twelve people gathered around him in a tight circle offering congratulations, words of encouragement, and requests for him to start selling CDs, when he sees Kurt slip out the front door. It takes another forty-five minutes before Blaine is on the train on his way home, wondering whether he went too far singing that song. _Why did he rush out the door before I could get through the crowd? Does he know the song is about him? Will that scare him off even more?_

Blaine practically sprints from the subway station to his apartment building, pausing at the top of the stairs to catch his breath. He stands for several minutes outside Kurt’s door with his hand raised to knock, heart beating wildly against the walls of his chest. He barely dares to breathe as he strains to hear any sounds or see any light escaping beneath the door. In spite of Blaine’s feeling that he will burst apart if he can’t speak to Kurt this moment, Kurt’s apartment remains quiet and dark.

Blaine shuffles back to his own door and engages himself in an internal debate about whether a few shots of tequila or some Nyquil would be the best way to shut off his churning thoughts and hopefully fall into a coma-like sleep. Blaine is reaching for the bottle of tequila when his phone rings. He answers without looking, assuming it must be Cooper at this time of night.

“Blaine?” It’s Kurt’s hesitant voice and Blaine immediately stands up straight, fully alert and willing his stomach to stop its dizzying dance of flips and turns.

“Kurt, I’m so glad you called. I couldn’t get out of the crowd before you left tonight. Where are you? Are you okay?” Blaine says all in one breath.

“I’m at home. I’m sorry I left so soon. I just…” Kurt’s voice trails off.

“What’s wrong?” Blaine asks, his stomach now clenching in fear.

“Nothing. I just… oh! Mmm. Wanted to hear your voice,” Kurt purrs coyly, the words punctuated by soft sounds of pleasure.

Haltingly, Blaine asks, “What are you doing?” Blaine walks slowly toward his closet door, fishing the key from his pocket.

“You know what I’m doing,” Kurt says in a low voice. “I’m _taking care_ _of_ _myself_. But it’s better when I can hear you.”

At first, Blaine wonders if this sudden openness about the true purpose of these late night phone calls is Kurt’s idea of an elaborate April Fool’s Day joke. But he promptly forgets all concerns when he pushes the door open and gasps at the sight through the mirror. Kurt’s pale skin is bathed in the flickering glow of a candle on the coffee table behind him. He is naked, straddling one of the straight-backed wooden chairs that normally reside by his kitchen table. Kurt’s thighs are straining and his back is arched, his head thrown back, his hands braced against the seat of the chair on either side, and his hard cock jutting out from his body as he slowly moves his body up and down.

 _Holy mother of God!_ Blaine’s clamps a hand to his mouth before he can blurt this thought out loud. He forces himself to breathe in and out. He feels the blood rushing to his cock and a moan escapes him as he recognizes the large, flesh-colored dildo that is standing straight up from the seat of the chair, alternately disappearing and emerging from Kurt’s ass as he works his body up and down.

“Do you like that?” Kurt asks seductively.

Blaine gasps and almost drops the phone as his heart tries to pound its way out of his chest. “What?” he practically shouts, terrified that Kurt has caught him watching at last.

“Well, I heard you moan after I said that hearing your voice makes it so much better. I thought maybe you liked that idea?” Kurt speaks in a slow, seductive tone as he pushes down, the dildo disappearing into his body inch by inch.

“Right. Yes. Yes, I do like it,” Blaine recovers, schooling his voice to match Kurt’s sultry tone.

“Mmmm, good,” Kurt groans as he lifts himself up again. “I thought you would like it. You said we had good chemistry over the phone. Come on. Talk to me.”

The visual of Kurt’s lithe body tight and straining, moving agonizingly slowly as he fucks himself up and down on the dildo, is pushing all coherent thoughts from Blaine’s head. _Don’t say something stupid. Don’t give yourself away._ Blaine closes his eyes, covering them with one hand for good measure, and focuses on Kurt’s breathy moans.

“Um, okay. What are you wearing?” Blaine cringes as soon as he hears himself. _I guess my brain still isn’t quite working yet._

“No, we’re not doing that,” Kurt says firmly. _How does he have so much control over his mind and his voice while he’s doing THAT?_  “I don’t want to have a conversation. I just want to hear your voice. Got any stories for me?”

“Um –” Blaine is drawing a blank. He wills himself to think, to conjure up images from his favorite pornos, but nothing surfaces other than the image burning into his eyelids of Kurt splayed out and fucking himself on a dildo with abandon.

“Please, Blaine,” Kurt whimpers, and Blaine’s erection strains against his jeans, pulsing and twitching with a burning need for touch. He puts the phone down for a split second, tearing his shirt over his head and shoving his jeans down to the floor violently before grabbing the phone to his ear again.

“Oh God, Kurt,” Blaine moans, pressing his palm against the bulge in his boxers and shuddering with pleasure. “I wish I could touch you. I wish I could just run my hands up and down your body and drag my hot, wet mouth over every inch of your bare skin.”

Blaine opens his eyes and sees Kurt biting his lip, straining to hold in his gasps as his cock jumps and pushes his body up and down faster, fucking the dildo in and out of his gaping hole.

“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine growls. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

“Oh God,” Kurt gasps, grinding down onto the dildo and throwing his head back even further. “Uhhh, ohhh, ahhhh!”

“That’s right, Kurt. Louder. I want to hear you,” Blaine urges as he fishes his cock out of the hole in his boxers and tugs at it hurriedly. “I want to hear you say my name.”

“Oh yeah! Uhhh, ahhh, unghhh. _Blaine._ Oh, Blaine, that feels so good, ahhhh!” Kurt cries out louder and louder as he undulates his body, thighs straining and fist pumping up and down his hard cock. Kurt’s shouts devolve into loud, delicious moans.

“Oh God, Kurt. You sound so good,” Blaine groans shakily, fucking into his fist. “Please, Kurt. Please, can I come over?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and he cringes as Kurt freezes on the other side of the mirror.

Several horrible, silent moments pass as Kurt lifts himself off the dildo and stands, cock still hard between his shaky legs. His face is a stoic mask as he stands silently and still, staring across the living room toward his front door.

 _Oh God, why did I say that? I’m so stupid. He’s never going to talk to me again._ Kurt says something, but Blaine can barely hear anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. Blaine is about to ask Kurt to repeat himself when he sees Kurt’s mouth open to speak again. And he hears the shy, soft voice through the phone ask, “That last song that you sang. The one you wrote. Was that about me?”

“Yes,” Blaine drags the word out hesitantly, turning it into a question. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable – ”

“No, I liked it,” Kurt cuts in sharply, turning away from the mirror. The candlelight sends flickering shadows dancing across his muscled back and buttocks and Blaine’s heart swells with longing. “I mean, it’s a good song,” Kurt continues.

“Um, thanks,” Blaine says, blinking in disbelief that they are talking about this now. Something they could have discussed while fully clothed at the Blue Lagoon. But now they are both naked and turned on and separated only by a pane of glass. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Yeah, it made me think about things…” Kurt says, his voice trailing off at the end. After a beat of silence, he says, “Ask me again.”

“What?”

“What you just asked a minute ago, Blaine. Ask me again.”

“Can I come over?” Blaine whispers.

 

**_AN: The song Blaine writes for Kurt is Move Into My Heart by Andy & Denise. They’re a singer songwriter couple who write witty lyrics and sing beautiful harmonies over acoustic guitar pop folk music. You can hear a s[ample](http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/andydenise) of Move Into My Heart or visit their [website](http://www.andyanddenise.com)._ **


	5. Chapter 5

****A/N: As always, many thanks to my wonderful - and fast working - beta[gigi42](http://www.gigi42.livejournal.com/).** **

 

**April 1, 2023**

“Can I come over?” Blaine whispers. He stares at Kurt’s bare back through the mirror and barely breathes as each nanosecond of silence stabs at his soul like an eternity of potential rejections.

“Yes.”

Stunned, Blaine remains silent. He thought perhaps they would finish their mutual masturbation over the phone, leading to yet another lonely night in his double bed followed by another awkward morning walk to the coffee shop where they continue to pretend that they are nothing more than friends. This is where Blaine’s mind drifts after he asks if he can come over, and he thinks Kurt’s positive response is a product of his hopeful imagination.

Until Kurt says it once more. “Yes. Please. Just give me a minute, okay?”

Blaine feels his lips move of their own accord into in a huge, beaming smile. “I’ll brush my teeth first,” he says. Kurt has already grabbed the chair in one hand and the dildo in the other and rushed out of Blaine’s view. Blaine pumps his fist in the air and pulls on a pair of underwear, practically hopping with both feet into the leg holes in his haste. He’s almost to the bathroom when he rushes back to the closet for a pair of pants, pushing his erection back with one hand while zipping up with the other. Blaine doesn’t care if anyone sees him in the hallway in his underwear, but Kurt might. And Blaine doesn’t want to do anything to make Kurt uncomfortable, to break this magic spell and have Kurt revert back to his usual “I don’t do boyfriends” stance. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, but does brush his teeth and rummages through his bedside table for a condom before bounding out to the hallway. He rushes back in to grab his keys from the peg on the wall and locks the door, shoving the keys into his pocket.

Kurt’s door swings open slowly before Blaine even raises his hand to knock. His cock twitches at the thought of Kurt watching for his arrival, impatiently stroking himself as he stands at the door, peering through the peephole into the hallway, softly moaning in desperation for Blaine’s touch. Blaine feels his cock twitch at the thought. He’s been hard for so long and his hands are trembling and aching with desire to touch Kurt at last. _He wants me now. I can touch him everywhere._  

Blaine expects Kurt to be naked, cock weeping pre-come and slick and gaping. Blaine expects Kurt to jump on him immediately, to ply him with sloppy, needy kisses. He expects Kurt to back him up toward the nearest chair, stripping off his clothes roughly before throwing him down. He expects Kurt to sink down onto his throbbing cock without warning, not even bothering to stop for a condom or extra lube, his greedy asshole sucking Blaine inside as he pumps himself up and down. He expects Kurt to ride him, head thrown back and already screaming, pushing Blaine’s hand to his cock and guiding him in a fast rhythm. He expects to jerk Kurt hard and fast, his cock warm and solid in his hand, his other hand grazing Kurt’s thigh, feeling the muscles flex and bulge as he works himself up and down on Blaine’s cock. He expects that he will barely be able to contain his own moans as Kurt’s ass clenches around him, to cry out his own ecstasy and release his load into Kurt’s hot channel just as Kurt paints his chest white with ropes of pearly white come. 

Blaine blinks back his fantasy and focuses on the sight in front of him. Kurt, hair slightly tousled, covered almost head to toe in a luxurious, fuzzy black robe. Kurt, looking past Blaine into the dimly lit hallway, eyes darting frantically back and forth.  

Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand and pulls him into the apartment, closing and locking the door. Blaine feels the touch like an electric jolt running from his palm through his body, straight to his cock. But Kurt drops his hand as soon as he’s clear of the doorway, and turns to face him. 

Kurt only meets his eyes for a moment, before looking down shyly. “I, um…” he tries, before trailing off. Kurt’s gaze sweeps across Blaine’s bare chest, then drops to the floor again. Haltingly, he says, “It’s, uh, been a while. I mean, I know we were just saying all kinds of – stuff – to each other on the phone. But, um, I’m not sure what to do now.” He finally meets Blaine’s eyes again, giving him a self-deprecating shrug and scrunching his face apologetically.

Blaine steps forward and places his hands tentatively on Kurt’s biceps. “Just let me touch you, Kurt. Please?”

As soon as he makes contact, Blaine feels the muscles jump under his hands and Kurt’s eyes open wide as he sucks in a sharp breath. Blaine tightens his grip, slowly and sensually rubbing soothing circles into Kurt’s arms with his thumbs. He is lost in Kurt’s eyes, drinking in the mesmerizing swirls of blues, yellows and greens that sparkle and flash in the flickering candlelight. He looks from one eye to the other, mapping out their depths. Kurt lets out a breath slowly, and Blaine can feel a teasing ghost of air on his own lips. He licks his lips in anticipation and Kurt’s eyes dart down at the movement. Kurt’s eyes stay focused on his lips and Blaine takes it as a signal to proceed. He inches forward slowly, watching Kurt’s eyes flutter closed as lips make contact with soft lips. 

The kiss is sweet and chaste, just a pressing together of lips, a light pressure, a slight suction. Blaine pulls back just an inch, but Kurt chases him with his mouth, kissing him gently and off-center. Blaine’s stomach is flipping wildly, his heart pounding and his lips tingling. Every part of his body throbs and aches with the need for more. Blaine snakes both hands through Kurt’s hair, his finger nails scratching lightly at Kurt’s scalp and holds his head firmly as he presses forward, sucking in Kurt’s lower lip and pulling back gently, working his mouth open. Blaine caresses Kurt’s cheek with one hand, dragging his fingers down and rubbing lightly against the trace of stubble on Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s mouth opens in anticipation and Blaine presses closer to him, licking along his bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside.

Kurt opens his mouth wider, granting Blaine access. As Blaine’s tongue slips inside, Kurt moans and plants his hands on Blaine’s back, pulling him closer until they are almost flush together. Kurt’s hands burn hot on Blaine’s bare skin and it’s almost too much, feeling that heat on his back as Kurt grips him tightly, feeling the heat in his wet mouth as he explores with his tongue. Blaine tilts Kurt’s head back and deepens the kiss, whimpering as Kurt’s tongue begins to slide along his own, exploring the cavern of his mouth. The kiss lasts forever and not nearly long enough, but at last Blaine pulls back, panting for breath.

Blaine steps back and smiles, running his hands along the collar of Kurt’s robe and down the seam. “May I?” he asks hopefully, already starting to tug the two sides apart. 

“O-okay,” Kurt stutters, forcing the arms that were already starting to cross in front of his stomach back down to his sides.

Blaine pulls the robe apart and slips it over his shoulders, letting it pool to the floor. He stares, open-mouthed, at Kurt’s pale skin. Blaine’s mind swims and he feels almost weak at the knees as he feasts on the mouth-watering sight of a stark-naked Kurt before him. Being so close to him, with no barriers – glass or clothing – between his eyes and Kurt’s body – is intoxicating. Kurt’s biceps and forearms seem even larger and more defined in person than they had through the mirror. The tight muscles of his abdomen jump slightly with the rush of cold air. His cock is flushed pink and half hard. His thigh muscles well-defined, dusted with a light coating of fine hair. “God, Kurt. You are so beautiful.” 

Kurt’s lips twitch up in a small smile. Softly, he says, “Wow. Um, no one’s ever called me that before.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible. Because you are. So beautiful. And so precious. I’m so incredibly lucky that you are sharing this with me,” Blaine says reverently as he gestures at Kurt’s body. 

“That’s incredibly sweet of you to say, Blaine,” Kurt mumbles a bit dismissively, as though he still doesn’t quite believe Blaine’s words. “But I’m starting to feel a bit uncomfortable just standing here like this. Kind of exposed, you know? By myself.”

“Is that your convoluted way of asking me to get naked, too,” Blaine teases. 

Kurt laughs nervously. “That would probably help.”

Blaine keeps his eyes trained on Kurt’s face, studying his reactions as he unbuttons his pants and slowly works them, and his underwear, down his hips. He stretches the underwear forward to pull them free of his straining cock, and shudders in pleasure as the fabric rubs against his throbbing skin. Kurt’s eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly. He leans forward a bit, licking his lips hungrily as his eyes sweep across Blaine’s body. Kurt sucks a deep breath in. Letting it out, he says in a breathy rush, “You’re beautiful, too.” 

Blaine runs his hands lightly up Kurt’s arms, like he is a skittish animal, as if he would balk and vanish or put a stop to this any second. He still can’t quite believe that this is real, squeezing Kurt warm flesh beneath his hands, proving to himself that he is indeed solid and not ephemeral. Kurt mirrors his actions, running his own hands up Blaine’s arms, pausing to squeeze his biceps gently.

Kurt’s touch sends a jolt of electricity through his body and suddenly Blaine is desperate to close the distance between them. He steps in, mouth already open, enveloping Kurt’s lips in his own. His hands move to Kurt’s lower back and he pulls him even closer as he opens his mouth with his tongue, gentle but insistent. Kurt moans as Blaine’s tongue enters his mouth once more. Kurt’s fingers dig into Blaine’s hips, dragging him forward. They groan in unison at the incredible shock of pleasure as their cocks meet between their tightly pressed bodies. Blaine grips Kurt tight, hands dipping down onto the swell of his ass, and rolls his hips in a sensual dance.

Blaine sucks wet kisses all along Kurt’s jaw and down his neck, licking and nipping, up and down, guided to the most sensitive spots by the delicious mewls and moans they elicit from Kurt between his ragged pants and gasps. He grips Kurt’s ass cheeks in his hands and pulls them apart in small circles as he continues to grind their cocks together. Kurt is moaning and whining continuously, and Blaine massages his ass in larger and larger circles as Kurt quivers in his arms. When Blaine’s finger dips into the seam of his ass, Kurt bucks backward and cries out.

Blaine circles the puffy, slick hole with his finger and Kurt freezes. Startled, Blaine stops. For a few moments, they grip each other tightly, only their ragged breaths breaking the silence. Blaine pulls back and studies Kurt’s face. His expression is unreadable.

“Is everything okay?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shifts his focus from the middle distance to Blaine’s face. “Um, yes. It’s just, uh – like I said before. It’s been a while.” He looks down and steps back, arms wrapping around his middle.

Blaine babbles desperately, blurting out every thought that comes into his head in an effort to bring Kurt into his arms once more. “That’s okay. We don’t have to have intercourse. I mean, you’re right. We’re probably moving too fast.” Blaine trains his eyes on the floor as he paces back and forth in front of Kurt. “There are so many other things we could do. Like blow jobs. Blow jobs are good. Or we could just jerk each other off. That can be nice. Or, maybe we don’t even do that. I’d be happy to use your dildo on you, or a vibrator if you have one. …” Blaine trails off as he looks up at last and registers the shocked expression on Kurt’s face. He rushes to add, “Or nothing. Cuddling. Talking. With clothes. Or whatever you want, really.”

Kurt jumps in, talking over Blaine’s last words and waving his hands to get his attention until Blaine falls into silence. “Okay, okay. It’s okay, Blaine. I do want to have sex with you. I just – I don’t have a _dildo._ ” He says that last word as if it is something too filthy, too demeaning to comprehend. A faint blush dusts his cheeks and he drops Blaine’s gaze for a moment. Blaine has to bite his lip to keep from calling Kurt out on his lie. _Right. I’m not supposed to about know that._ “It’s just – it has been a long time since I’ve… been with someone,” Kurt continues hesitantly. “I’m not exactly prepared. You know, for being safe.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Blaine says, smiling with relief. “I didn’t want to presume or anything, but I did bring a condom with me just in case.” Kurt still looks tense and it triggers Blaine back into babbling. “But I understand if you’re not comfortable with intercourse yet. Like I said, there’s always blow jobs. And I’m really good at them. Of course, I only brought one condom. But that’s okay. I can just do you. I mean, I like doing it. I could probably come just from that.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Blaine continues, his words almost jumbling together as he talks faster and faster. “Or, you can use the condom to fuck me. I mean, I’m not going to assume that you want to bottom, even if you fingered yourself. At least, I assume you did that – or something – since you felt so slick when I touched you there.” Blaine’s eyes sparkle and he grins like a schoolboy discovering a huge pile of presents under the Christmas tree. “Oh, I just realized something! I could just go back to my apartment and get some more condoms. That was kind of dumb of me to just bring one. But again, I didn’t want to presume.”

He stops and looks at Kurt’s raised eyebrow, wishing the floor would just open up and drop him into the apartment below. He is just starting to wonder if he has read this whole thing wrong when Kurt’s face starts to crack. It’s only another moment before Kurt is laughing out loud. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he chokes out between guffaws. “I should have stopped you. But that was so precious.”

Blaine is unsure whether Kurt laughing at him, naked in the hallway, is better or worse than his previous stunned silence. “Um, do you want me to get another condom? Or, should I just leave?” Blaine asks, already crouching down to reach for his pants, crumpled and defeated.

Kurt grabs his hands and pulls him close. “No,” he says hesitantly. He looks at their joined hands, swinging them back and forth a few times and repeat, “No.” Squaring his shoulders, Kurt seems to makes a decision. He leans in close and speaks in a low, sultry tone that sends sparks through Blaine’s entire body. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh God, Kurt,” Blaine groans as they press against each other again, kissing messy and deep, fingers digging into each other’s backs.

Blaine pulls away for a moment to fish the condom out of his pants pocket and glances hopefully at the mirror in the next room. “No making out on the couch,” Kurt admonishes, tugging Blaine gently by the arm. “Come on. Bedroom, now.”

“Are you sure?” Blaine asks, as he follows Kurt down the hallway past the bathroom. “I thought maybe you might want me to sit on a chair.”

Kurt stops in his tracks and turns to stare at Blaine. “Why would I want that?”

“So you can ride me,” Blaine answers without thinking. Seeing Kurt’s furrowed brow he quickly adds, “I thought you would like to be in control. Since you said it’s been a while. I, um, don’t want to hurt you.” _Although I’m pretty sure it would be impossible to hurt you now, after you drove yourself wildly up and down on that thick dildo just moments before I came over. The dildo you don’t want me to know that you have._ Kurt continues to look puzzled, so Blaine continues.“A chair could help you get leverage. But the bed is good, too. I can just lie down and you can climb on top of me…”

“I’d really rather not,” Kurt says finally. “I think it would be easier for me if you just…top from on top. Okay?”

“Of course,” Blaine says smoothly, masking his disappointment with a smile. He pushes gently against Kurt’s hand that is still wrapped around his wrist and steps forward. Kurt turns and continues leading him into the bedroom.

Blaine tosses the condom on the bed, then lunges forward and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. Kurt gasps as Blaine runs his hands up and down, alternately tweaking a nipple and tickling at the fine hairs at the base of his abdomen. Blaine bends his knees, pulling Kurt’s hips back and rubbing his hard cock underneath Kurt’s ass. Kurt lets out a low whine as Blaine grips his cock with a loose fist, pumping his hand up and down and swiping his thumb across the moist tip. He lifts up on his toes, his cock catching at the base of Kurt’s ass before popping free to slide up against his lower back. Blaine keeps one hand secure on Kurt’s cock, pumping slowly as he rises up. The other hand is on Kurt’s nipple working it into a small, hard nub with insistent fingers. Fully raised up on his toes, Blaine sucks at the back of Kurt’s neck. He pushes on Kurt’s back, forcing him to bend over the edge of the bed.

“No, wait.” Kurt commands. Blaine releases him and he scrambles fully onto the bed, flipping over onto his back. “Like this,” he says, reaching out his arms and pulling Blaine down on top of him.

Blaine reaches for the condom and rips the foil, pulling it out and rolling it into place. Kurt rolls over and pulls open a drawer, revealing several large bottles of lube. He hands a bottle to Blaine and he pops open the cap, dribbling some over his cock before spreading it out with two quick jerks. He dribbles some more on his hand and shuffles closer to Kurt on his knees. Kurt lifts his legs and grips behind his knees, pulling his legs back and exposing his hole. It’s still gaping, puffy and slick from his earlier adventures in front of the mirror. Blaine plunges in a lubed finger, leaning over Kurt to capture his lips in a deep kiss. Kurt’s legs buck and writhe beneath Blaine’s torso. Blaine pulls his finger out and adds another, probing deeply until Kurt twitches and moans greedily into his mouth.

Blaine pulls his fingers out and raises himself up on his knees. He drinks in the vision of Kurt spread out beneath him. Kurt’s bangs cling to his glistening forehead and his pupils are blown wide. He pants and squirms and whines as if this is all just too much, too delicious, gripping his thighs tighter and pulling them closer to his chest, stretching his twitching hole wide. Blaine dribbles more lube on his own cock and on Kurt’s. He presses the tip of his cock against Kurt’s hole gently, gripping the base with one hand and rubbing his cock in small circles against the puckered flesh. Kurt whines and rocks against him, wriggling his hips in an effort to push Blaine’s cock further in. “Please,” he whimpers, and Blaine is gone, pushing slowly against the first ring of muscles until the hole opens up and sucks him in, pulsing deliciously around him. He rocks gently in and out of Kurt, pushing his thighs further and further into his chest as he thrusts.

Blaine’s hand wraps around Kurt’s cock in a tight fist and he pumps it up and down, squeezing rhythmically, matching the squeeze of Kurt’s hot, tight ass around his cock. Blaine bends and pushes and thrusts even more deeply into Kurt in an effort to bring their mouths together. He whines into Kurt’s mouth desperately as his hand speeds up to match his frantic thrusts. The pleasure is building within him into a white hot heat threatening to burst in his brain. Kurt is squeezing against him as he starts to shake, moaning and mewling into Blaine’s mouth. Kurt’s cock twitches and spurts and his ass clamps down impossibly tight on Blaine’s cock.

It feels incredible. Blaine is balanced on the height of pleasure with the overload of sensations, but it is Kurt’s face that sends him over the edge. Kurt’s incredibly beautiful face as he shouts out his open-mouthed bliss, eyes rolling back and every twist and twitch of his muscles ripe with pleasure as his cock paints their bodies with hot come. Blaine’s whole body goes rigid as he releases his load with a wordless shout, before slumping against Kurt and burying his head in that soft, warm neck. Kurt wiggles his legs from beneath Blaine’s body and wraps them tight around his waist, pulling him close.

**April 2, 2023**

Blaine awakens when he feels the bed shift beside him. He blinks his eyes open and watches Kurt as he slides out from under the covers, slides his feet into a pair of slippers, and quietly steps toward the door.

“Kurt?” Blaine calls out, his voice croaking a bit through the vestiges of sleep.

Kurt freezes, his back facing Blaine. “I’m going to jump in the shower now. I think we both need to get going if we don’t want to be late for work.”

“Wait,” Blaine calls to his retreating form. Kurt halts in the doorway and looks over his shoulder at him. “Are we okay?”

“Yes,” Kurt says crisply, jaw held tight. “Of course we are,” he adds, stepping quickly out of the room. Blaine lingers for a few minutes after he hears the shower running, brow furrowed, pondering the hesitation in Kurt’s eyes.

Blaine is a bit surprised when Kurt knocks on his door about forty minutes later. They exchange shy smiles, but no words, as they walk side by side to the coffee shop. Blaine wonders if he should offer to buy Kurt’s drink, but Kurt strides swiftly to the counter to order for himself.

They slide into opposite sides of the booth and fiddle with their cups, stirring unnecessarily with the wooden sticks and blowing on the steaming surface, impatient to take a sip.

“Kurt,” Blaine says stiffly. “Last night was amazing and incredible and more than I could have ever hoped for – ”

“But…” Kurt cuts in, spitting out the word harshly.

“No, no, no, no, Kurt,” Blaine insists. “There’s no ‘but’. There’s an ‘and’, if you’ll let me finish. Last night was amazing and I really want it to be more than a one-time thing.”

Kurt eyes Blaine suspiciously over the top of his cup as he takes a slow sip. “Because you’re looking for a very convenient fuck buddy?” he deadpans.

“What?” Blaine splutters. “No!”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Kurt says coldly. “I kind of expect it. Even I can admit it would be convenient. Since I am right next door, after all.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says gently. “Will you please listen to me for a minute?”

“Okay,” Kurt says slowly, drawing the word into two syllables. 

“When I say I hope it can be more than a one-time thing, what I mean is, I want you to be my boyfriend,” Blaine says with wide and hopeful eyes.

Kurt stares at Blaine fixedly, and it takes what feels like an eternity for his stern look to dissolve into the slightest of smiles. He looks down at his cup and says bashfully, “Well, if you’re willing to put up with me. I mean, I don’t exactly have the best track record as a boyfriend.”

“I’m not worried,” Blaine says with a soft smile. “From what you’ve said, it sounds like the problem is with them and not you.”

“And what about you?” Kurt asks. “What’s your track record being a boyfriend?”

Blaine purses his lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know, really. I mean, I’ve had some friends with benefits in the past, and I’ve dated a couple of guys for a few weeks here and there. Had the occasional one night stand. But I’ve never really been someone’s boyfriend before.” He reaches for Kurt’s hand and wraps both his hands around it, looking deep into his eyes. “I promise to do everything in my power to be a really great boyfriend to you, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt smile builds slowly. He tries to bite it back, to force his face into a serious look, but his lips crack open and soon he is beaming. “I guess I can give it a try. Being boyfriends.”

Blaine gives Kurt’s hand a squeeze. “Sometimes I wish there was a better word for it. Boyfriend just makes it sound like we’re in high school, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I know. But I don’t think I could ever introduce anyone to my Dad as my lover with a straight face.” Kurt snorts, and pulls his hand out of Blaine’s to cover his mouth as he tries unsuccessfully to turn his giggles into a dignified cough.

“Oh God,” groans Blaine. “Don’t even put that idea in my head. But you’re right. I don’t know of another good word for it.”

Kurt looks thoughtful for a moment and posits, “There’s always ‘partner’. But I hate that word. It makes me think of cowboys. Or the New York Stock Exchange.”

“And that’s not very sexy,” Blaine chuckles.

Kurt shoots Blaine a quick, tight-lipped smile and stands, gathering up his napkins and empty sugar packets.

“Are you leaving already? It feels like we just got here,” Blaine says, pulling out his cell phone to check the time.

“I’ve got an early morning meeting with a client downtown, so I’ve got to run.” Kurt says, leaning down to graze Blaine’s cheek with a brief kiss. With his face still inches from Blaine’s, he adds, “It’s going to be a crazy day.” Raising an eyebrow, he says suggestively, “But I’ll get through it by thinking about the reward that awaits me when I get home.”

Blaine’s stomach swoops and his eyes narrow seductively. “Exactly what kind of reward are you expecting?” he asks, words dripping with innuendo.

Kurt straightens, slow and catlike, until he is fully upright. His face transforms from seductive to innocent in an instant. In a bright voice he says, “Finally getting to see that walk-in closet you’ve kept me locked out of for ten months, obviously.” He takes a step back, grinning at the success of his subterfuge. “After all, if we’re going to be boyfriends then I have the right to see if there’s any room left in there for me to store my clothes. I’m due for a shopping trip.” 

Kurt finishes with a triumphant smile. But the smile quickly drains from his face as he registers Blaine’s stricken look. “I’m just kidding,” Kurt says with sudden seriousness. “I know we’re far from keeping clothes in each other’s apartments. We probably won’t ever get to that point, if my past relationships are any indication. And even if we did get to that point, storing clothes in your closet would be silly anyway, since I live next door.”

Blaine snaps his mouth shut. “Right, yes, I know,” he stammers. “I mean, no. I think we’ll get to that point. Just, um, not right now. Right? Just, uh, don’t scare me like that again, heh, heh.”  Blaine nearly groans at his inability to form a proper sentence over the pounding of the blood rushing past his ears.

“I’ll try not to scare you again. I do get to see the closet, though, right?” Kurt asks hopefully. “I mean, I think you know me well enough to understand that I’m not going to try to steal your identity or snoop through the documents you hide in there.”

“Of course,” Blaine answers quickly. “Um, are you going to be out all day, or are you working some at home?”

“Out all day, unfortunately. And I may be a bit later than usual getting home,” Kurt sighs.

“Well, text me when you have an idea of when you’ll be home. I can pick up something for us at the Thai place.”

Kurt is already halfway to the front door, but he darts back and kisses Blaine deeply, leaving his head spinning. “That sounds wonderful. See you later!”

“Bye,” Blaine says quietly to Kurt’s retreating form. As soon as Kurt is gone, Blaine scrambles to pull his phone out of his pocket, fingers flying across the screen to pull up the number for the hospital. “Hi, it’s Blaine. Listen, I woke up a bit late this morning and I’m feeling terrible.” He pauses to cough a few times and throws in a sneezing sound for good measure. “Yeah, I better stay home today and get some rest. Those kids have enough going on without having to fend off my germs.”

Blaine ducks out of the coffee shop and heads toward his usual subway stop, afraid to head back to the apartment in case he runs into Kurt again. Glancing over his shoulder, he walks past the subway entrance and toward a tiny office supply shop three blocks down. They haven’t opened yet, so he walks around the block a few times, planning his day. When the shop opens, he is grateful to see that they do indeed have filing cabinets with locks. He buys one and checking the time again, heads back to his building.

Blaine works diligently, only stopping for a quick lunch and the occasional water or bathroom break. By the time Kurt texts that he is on his way home, Blaine has put up the drywall, removed all the clothing and clothing racks, repainted the walls, replaced the clothing and racks, added the filing cabinet and moved his files from the desk to the cabinet. He responds to Kurt that he’ll have dinner ready, and places the call to the restaurant. He has a fan running to draw the paint fumes out of the window, and he lights incense to further mask the scent. A quick swipe of his finger across the freshly painted walls reassures him that it is at least dry to the touch.

Blaine hurriedly changes clothes and washes his face and hands, wishing he had time for a full shower. He surveys the closet once more and his eyes widen as they spot the bench. He’s not sure if Kurt will remember Blaine insisting to the man at the community flea market that he didn’t own a bench, but he doesn’t want to take a chance. Tucking it under one arm, he rushes out the door. He is careful to leave the bench several blocks away from their building. He swings by the restaurant and just manages to get back into the apartment to turn off the fan and put it away before he hears a knock at the door.

“Damn, Blaine. Were you smoking pot in here?” Kurt asks before Blaine has even finished opening the door.

“What? No,” Blaine scoffs. “It was – uh – stuffy. And I like the smell of incense. But I might have gone a little overboard.”

He leans in for a kiss. Their lips meet briefly, but Kurt is already pulling away and walking past him. “I’ve been thinking about that closet all day.”

Blaine laughs nervously. “You don’t even want to eat dinner first?”

“Nah. Dinner can wait.” Kurt rushes to the closet door with an excited bounce in his step. “May I?” he asks with his hand on the knob.

Blaine nods and sweeps his hand outward in a “go ahead” gesture, holding his breath and hoping the paint fumes are sufficiently dissipated.

“Oh, this is nice,” Kurt says, awestruck. Blaine steps up to the doorway and watches in horror as Kurt walks along to the back of the closet, running his hand along the wall where the mirror was once visible. He forces his face back into a neutral expression just as Kurt swings around to face him again. “I am so jealous.” Blaine smiles just a little, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch with the strain of his anxiety. The acrid stench of paint fumes curl at his nostrils, and he cringes, wondering what he can possibly say to explain it.

Kurt is tracing the wall with his hand absently as he walks back toward Blaine, this time looking at the racks of clothing and the small filing cabinet and nodding his approval. He stops just at the slight seam where the new drywall meets the old and Blaine’s heart stops with him. “Huh, that’s strange…” Kurt says, turning to look at the wall.

“What’s strange?” Blaine blurts, his voice sounding too loud and too bright in his ears. _Keep breathing. Just keep it together. You can tell him the bump is from fixing up the wall all those months ago. There’s no way he’s going to figure it out. Is there?_

“This paint,” Kurt says, looking at the wall in wonder. “What brand of paint is this?”

“Why?” Blaine asks too quickly. _Now that doesn’t sound suspicious at all._

“Because, it’s incredible!” Kurt gushes excitedly. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

“Like what?” Blaine asks, puzzled, the pounding in his ears starting to slow down.

“You painted this almost a year ago, but this looks so fresh. I have to know what brand this is, Blaine. It could revolutionize my business!” Kurt bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, hands gesturing wildly. “So tell me, what paint did you use?”

“Oh – uh – I don’t know. M-maybe I could try to find the receipt. I keep those sometimes…” Blaine winces and ducks his head apologetically.

“Oh, okay.” Kurt says disappointedly. “I realize not everyone pays attention to this stuff. And it was a long time ago. But if you can remember – or find the receipt – that would mean the world to me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Blaine says, taking Kurt’s hand and leading him gently away from the closet. _Thank God his nose isn’t too sensitive._ “For now, let’s have some dinner.”

Just before they reach the kitchen, Blaine feels a tug on his hand. “What is it?” he asks, turning toward Kurt.

“Come here,” Kurt says, pulling Blaine toward him by their joined hands. Kurt looks searchingly into Blaine’s eyes, his face set in an intense, unreadable expression. _Maybe his nose is more sensitive than I thought._ Blaine braces himself for the inevitable questions, but Kurt smiles at him adoringly and says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” asks Blaine, bewildered.

Kurt steps closer and puts his hands on Blaine’s shoulders. “Thank you for trusting me. I know it was hard for you to open that closet door for me. I know I was flippant, teasing you about it this morning. And I’m sorry.”

Shame washes over Blaine in waves and he bends his head, eyes trained on the floor so Kurt can’t read the deceit in them. He mumbles dismissively, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Blaine, look at me.” Kurt massages Blaine’s shoulders gently until Blaine raises his head shakily. Kurt’s eyes are a mesmerizing aquamarine fringed with gold and Blaine is soon lost in them and Kurt continues. “Please don’t dismiss this. I may not share your fear of someone stealing my identity, but I have my own fears. And I know how hard it can be to trust another person with something that triggers those fears. I just want you to know that I’m honored you trust me like that.” Kurt looks at the space just past Blaine’s left ear and blinks, his eyes shining and moist. “I’m, um, not all the way there, yet. With trusting.” He looks back at Blaine again and says, “But I want to be. And I’m so proud of you.”

“I want you to be,” Blaine says, his voice cracking a bit with the overwhelming longing he has to be truly worthy of Kurt’s trust and pride. When Kurt wraps his arms around his neck and leans in to press their lips together, Blaine squeezes his eyes closed against a threatening tear. Blaine forces his mind off of his secret and focuses all of his attention on the warm press of lips against his and the feel of Kurt’s back beneath his hands.  

 

**April 28, 2023**

Over the next few weeks, Blaine spends every possible moment planning and executing perfect dates with Kurt. He tells himself it’s because he is trying to be the doting boyfriend Kurt deserves, but seems to have never had. He tells himself it’s because he loves to see the surprised and delighted look on Kurt’s face when he reveals their plans for the next evening. And whenever he steps into his closet to choose the perfect outfit for the next perfect date, and his eyes drift toward the blank wall where the mirror used to be, he rushes out and buries his guilt under yet another Yelp search for the best restaurants, clubs, movie theaters, and art galleries.

One night, after singing every romantic duet on the roster at Yelp’s top rated Karaoke bar in the Bronx, they stumble back to Blaine’s apartment. Blaine captures Kurt’s lips with his own as he pushes the door shut behind them with one foot. He steers Kurt backwards, never breaking their kiss. Kurt lets out a startled laugh as Blaine pushes him onto the couch. Blaine crouches over him and leans in to kiss him again, but Kurt tilts his head away and pushes Blaine’s chest, scooting further away on the couch as Blaine straightens into a sitting position beside him.

“What is it?” Blaine asks, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“Blaine, these last few weeks have been great fun. Going out almost every night and – exploring each other when we get home.” Hesitantly, Kurt continues. “I’m enjoying it, but I think we need to slow things down a little bit.”

A chill runs down Blaine’s spine and he’s frozen in place. His words catch in his throat, strangled. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” A look of horror crosses Kurt’s features. “Oh no, Blaine. That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then.” Blaine hears the words as if from a distance as if someone else is having this conversation and he is just listening disinterestedly.

“I just mean we should slow things down. Not go out every single night. Before I met you, I spent a lot of time alone. And even when we became friends, we never spent this much time together,” Kurt explains.

“But I like spending time with you,” Blaine says, his voice rising with consternation.

“And I like spending time with you, too. But it’s not good for either of us. I mean look at us,” Kurt gestures between them. “We’re both yawning and can barely keep our eyes open. This schedule – it’s just not healthy.” He bites his lip and looks down shyly before meeting Blaine’s gaze dead on. “Besides, I feel like all this going out and doing things all the time is actually stopping us from getting to know each other better.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that,” Blaine says. “And how is spending less time together going to help us get to know each other better?”

“By making that time quality time,” Kurt replies, leaning in and gesturing wildly as he warms to the topic. “Take tonight for example. I really like singing with you. I had a great time. But we spent almost the whole night singing – not talking or getting to know each other better. And yesterday was the movie at the dinner theater. So we didn’t get to talk much at that. And when we got home, we were too busy having sex to talk.”

“Was the sex not good?” Blaine asks.

“It was good. That’s not the point,” Kurt sighs in exasperation. “I just – I think you know that it’s hard for me to trust people. And I really want to trust you. It would really help me to do that if I felt like we were able to talk more. And take things just a little more slowly. Is that going to be okay with you?”

“Well yes, I guess so.” Blaine stares at the carpet. “Honestly, I thought you were going to break up with me. So this is definitely better. I think I can handle going out less often if it means we’re going to talk more.” He grabs Kurt’s hand and squeezes, looking into his eyes. “I do want to get to know you better. I want to know everything about you.”

“Thanks,” Kurt says with a small smile. “I was a little worried about how to bring this up. But I think it will be better for us. And I think we can both use with a little time alone some nights just to recharge – and to work on our own projects. Like your music. And my acting. I actually missed a few auditions, but I would really like to get back out there. I’m just itching to be in another play.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Blaine says wistfully. “It’s just going to be hard to spend less time with you.”

Kurt just smiles and leans forward to capture Blaine’s lips in a kiss. Blaine opens his mouth and sighs, relishing the slick slide of tongue against tongue as he clutches the back of Kurt’s head and deepens the kiss. They kiss slowly and languidly for a few minutes.

Kurt hums contentedly against Blaine’s lips, then draws back and smiles at him. He extracts himself carefully from Blaine’s embrace and stands. “Well, it’s late. I should head back to my apartment.”

“No, wait. Don’t go yet.” Blaine leaps to his feet and steps between Kurt and the door. “Can’t our whole ‘spending less time together’ thing start tomorrow? Please?”

“You’re so adorable. But trust me, this is going to make our time together much better. It will be so worth it,” Kurt says with just a hint of flirtation in his tone and a slightly raised eyebrow.

Blaine places his hands on Kurt’s shoulders and leans toward him with hopeful eyes. “May I at least have a final kiss good night?”

“I thought that was your final kiss good night,” Kurt says teasingly, an impish grin dancing across his lips.

“Come here,” Blaine says. Stepping forward he grasps Kurt’s face between his hands and peppers kisses rapid-fire across his cheeks and nose and mouth.

Blaine draws out the soft, rapid kisses, desperate to keep Kurt with him as long as possible. The warmth of Kurt’s cheeks and neck beneath his fingers ground him, holding the crush of black guilt and vague terror at bay. Blaine is all to aware that Kurt will walk out the door and it may be days before he can hold him like this again.

Driven by an all-consuming need, suddenly Blaine is pushing and pulling, sucking and licking at Kurt’s lips and driving his tongue into Kurt’s mouth. He pushes against Kurt’s lips, hard and soft, fast and slow. He tilts his head first one way then another, chasing each unique sensation that comes from exploring Kurt’s mouth from every angle.

Kurt moans a bit and grips Blaine’s shoulders and it’s like a fire is lit within him. Blaine grabs Kurt’s hips tight with both hands and drags him forward, pulling their bodies flush as he continues the frantic kissing. His hands roam up and down Kurt’s back, kneading into his flesh, pulling him closer and grinding against him. With his mouth still latched to Kurt’s, Blaine slides his hands between them and grapples with the buttons on Kurt’s pants. He tugs at the zipper violently and is already starting to drop to his knees when Kurt’s hands on his upper arms tug him back to his feet.

“Right here?” Kurt gasps out incredulously, flushed and panting.

“Why not? I need you,” Blaine groans, reaching for Kurt’s zipper and once again dropping to his knees.

Kurt steps back and fastens his pants. “No. Not here. Not in the middle of your dining room. Let’s just – let’s just say goodnight for now and tomorrow we can – get intimate. In the bedroom. Like civilized people.” Kurt helps Blaine to his feet again and rubs his arms soothingly.

“Why not here, though? Why not now? It’s hot. And spontaneous,” Blaine inches closer to Kurt, staring into his eyes and smiling, reaching for his hips to pull them close again. “Don’t you like wild and spontaneous?”

Kurt steps to the side, walking around Blaine toward the door. He stammers, looking around the room and twisting his fingers together. “I just feel weird doing – that – in your dining room. It just feels too – public. And the bed is much more comfortable for those sorts of activities. And it’s really late and we both have work tomorrow.” His hand on the doorknob, Kurt finally looks directly at Blaine again. Wincing, he asks, “I’m not being too boring for you, am I?”

“No,” says Blaine, keeping his voice as neutral as possible to mask his disappointment. “You could never be boring. And you’re right. The bed is more comfortable. And it is late. Coffee tomorrow?”

“Coffee tomorrow,” Kurt echoes, sounding relieved. He steps through the door and closes it gently behind him.  

As soon as he’s alone, Blaine feels his face fall into blank despondence and a frustrated sigh escapes him. He walks toward the closet on autopilot, palming his erection through his pants. He swings open the door and the ivory wall is like a punch in the gut. He gasps and shuts his eyes against the stark sight. Tugging painfully on his hair, he sinks down to the floor and chokes back his sobs. He reaches out his hand and strokes the wall, imagining Kurt on the other side, wild and carefree.

**May 13, 2023**

It’s been two weeks since Kurt asked to slow down and since then they’ve only had one dinner date, one weekend errand run, and one rendezvous on Blaine’s couch that involved more talking than kissing. Blaine spent most of the time apart continuing to plan elaborate dates, but this time he simply jotted down descriptions, addresses, and phone numbers for future use, rather than immediately making reservations. He also spent more time than he would care to admit with an ear up against the wall, straining to hear any sounds that would clue him in to what Kurt might be doing in front of his mirror. Even plucking at his guitar just seemed like a way to fill the time until he was tired enough to drift off to sleep.

Tonight, Kurt brings dinner to Blaine’s apartment. Blaine is excited and eats quickly, chatting distractedly and silently willing Kurt to finish. Blaine barely waits for Kurt to dab at his mouth with a napkin before he tugs him off the dining room chair.

“I got something for you. Well, for us,” Blaine says, bouncing on his toes a bit as he leads Kurt toward the sofa. He grabs a book off of the coffee table and hands it to Kurt.

Kurt tilts his head to the side and cocks an eyebrow questioningly, taking the book from Blaine’s hands. He turns it over and reads out loud, “Complete Book of Questions by Garry Poole.” He looks at Blaine again and asks, “What is this?”

“Just what it says,” Blaine responds, pulling the book gently out of his hands and flipping through it. “Judy and Phil, two of the nurses at the hospital, were talking about it the other day. Apparently Judy and her husband use the book at dinner parties to break the ice and help everyone get to know each other better. I thought it might be good for us. You know, to get to know each other better – as boyfriends. Like you said you wanted to do. So, I went to the bookstore after work today and bought it for us.” Blaine looks up at Kurt with big, round eyes that almost beg for approval. “Do you want to try it?”

“Um, maybe. What kind of questions does it have?” Kurt asks uncertainly.

“Good ones. On everything, really,” Blaine says enthusiastically. “There are questions about your hopes and dreams, what kind of person you are, your childhood, your philosophy of life, moral dilemmas. We can just flip through and pick some to ask each other.”

Kurt looks at the book thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Just reading questions to each other out of a book seems a little weird…”

“Oh, okay.” Blaine puts the book facedown on the table and pushes it further away, pursing his lips and not meeting Kurt’s eyes. “I guess it was a dumb idea, anyway.”

“No, Blaine, it’s a good idea,” Kurt insists, sliding closer to Blaine and briskly rubbing a hand up and down his back. “I’m just wondering if there’s a way to spice it up a little bit.”

“We could make it a drinking game. Or even better, a stripping game,” Blaine says hopefully.

Kurt looks at Blaine appraisingly for a deliciously heart-racing moment before apprehension washes over his face. “Oh – um, I don’t think I’m ready for that. Can we not?”

“Of course,” Blaine says, struggling to keep his tone free of disappointment. “I was just joking,” he added, not quite able to meet Kurt’s eyes. He’s still trying to think of something to say to move past the awkward moment when Kurt stands up and pulls a folded up piece of paper from his pocket. There are a few items written in a list on the top left corner. Kurt tears that section off and tucks it back in his pocket. He walks across the room and grabs a pen from the coffee mug filled with pens and pencils on Blaine’s desk. Kurt sits down again and tears the paper into several pieces, passing about half of them to Blaine.

“What’s this for?” Blaine asks.

“I have an idea about how we can use the book,” Kurt replies. “How many questions does it have, anyway?”

Blaine grabs the book again and flips toward the last page. “One thousand.”

“Okay,” says Kurt. “On each piece of paper, write down a number between one and one thousand. I’ll do the same. We’ll put the pieces in a bowl or something and mix them up. You pick a number and you have to answer that question. We’ll take turns.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds good.” Blaine says. Kurt writes numbers on his pieces of paper and hands the pen to Blaine. After jotting down his random set of numbers, Blaine rummages through the kitchen cabinets and comes back with a wide plastic bowl that he uses for eating popcorn. They drop the folded up pieces of paper into the bowl and Blaine shakes it dramatically, causing the papers to jump and dance. He reaches his hand into the bowl, but before he can make contact with a paper, Kurt wrenches the bowl away.

“Wait,” Kurt yelps as he yanks on the bowl. “We need to discuss some ground rules.”

“Seriously?” Blaine asks. “Why do you think we need rules? It’s just asking questions.”

“There might be questions I don’t – we don’t – want to answer.” Kurt grips the bowl close to his chest, arms wrapped around it, biting his lip.

“No, come on. That’s not fair,” Blaine says gently.  “This whole question game thing is supposed to help us get to know each other better. And to do that, we’re both going to have to trust each other enough to answer whatever questions we get as honestly as possible.” He puts a reassuring hand on Kurt’s shoulder and, maintaining the contact, moves slowly behind him, massaging both shoulders soothingly. He leans forward and brushes Kurt’s ear with his lips. He feels Kurt’s knees buckle slightly and he snakes an arm around his waist to support him as he whispers, “I’ll even go first.”

“Mmmmm,” Kurt hums contentedly, leaning back into Blaine’s embrace. “Okay.” Kurt spins around in Blaine’s arms and leans over the bowl between them to kiss him softly on the lips. He steps back and holds the bowl out to Blaine.

Blaine reaches in and pulls out the number, handing it back to Kurt.

“Two-sixty,” Kurt says, reaching for the book and dropping carefully back onto the couch. “Let’s see what that one is.” He flips to the right page and traces his finger down it. “Oh – this isn’t too deep. ‘Do you prefer to plan your vacation or be spontaneous?’”

Blaine hangs his head and looks up at Kurt sheepishly. “Um…I don’t know how to answer this question, exactly.”

“What, don’t tell me you’ve never taken a vacation.” Kurt says incredulously.

“No, it’s not that. I’ve gone on plenty of vacations. It’s just that I’ve never been the one to plan – or not plan – them,” Blaine says, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Well, that’s very mysterious,” Kurt says teasingly. “I think you need to explain yourself a bit further.”

“It’s not that mysterious or exciting, I’m afraid,” Blaine says. “It’s embarrassing, really, but my parents have planned most of the vacations I’ve been on. And they’re usually pretty planned out. I’ve been to a lot of really amazing places – Paris, London, Bangkok, Dubai, Shanghai, Rio de Janeiro, Rome. My mom would take me and my brother for a few weeks in the summer and my dad would join us for one week or a long weekend. After Cooper went to college, they sometimes sent me on a guided tour with other kids my age. But it was always planned to the hilt. Especially the guided tours. They’d have us traipsing around museums and cathedrals and monuments all day, take us to nightclubs to dance half the night, then drag us out of bed early in the morning to take a bus to our next destination. It was exhausting.”

“Did you like being with your parents or being on the tour better?” Kurt asks.

“I didn’t like being on the tours with the other kids. You would think that would be more fun than being with your parents, but it never worked out that way. I think it’s because they would find a tour that was six weeks long and send me for only two weeks of it. So I would come in after all the other kids already had gotten to know each other, and it was always weird. And then I’d leave early, too. So I never got to that point of exchanging phone numbers or even friending them on Facebook.”

“You know, you never really answered the question, though,” Kurt says thoughtfully, studying the open book in his lap.

“Well you keep asking me other questions,” Blaine protests. “What is the question in the book again, anyway?”

“Do you prefer to plan your vacation or be spontaneous?”

“Oh, right. Well, I’ve only ever been on planned vacations and I haven’t really been in charge. But I think if I ever go on a vacation of my own choosing, I would want some spontaneity in there. You know, plan the basic outline of where to go and know I have a place to stay and maybe a few ideas of things to do or places to visit. And then just go and see what happens. See what I feel like doing, you know?”

“Yeah,” says Kurt. “That sounds perfect. I’ve never been anyplace exotic on vacation. I’ve only traveled a little within the U.S., mostly to visit family. But I think the best way to visit another country would be to stay away from the tourist attractions and get to know the real people and the real places.”

“Agreed,” says Blaine. “Maybe we need to go on vacation together sometime.” He laughs nervously, hoping he hasn’t frightened Kurt.

“Maybe someday,” Kurt says.

“Well, I think it’s your turn to pick a number.” Blaine shakes the bowl in front of Kurt. Kurt pulls out the number and hands it to Blaine, followed by the book. “Three thirty six,” Blaine announces. After some searching through the book he reads, “What was an act of kindness you offered or received?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Kurt says slowly. “Let me think for a minute.” He stares into the distance, brow furrowed, for a silent minute before a slow smile takes over his features. “Well, I feel a little weird telling this story. It feels a bit like bragging.”

“It’s not bragging,” Blaine insists. “It’s just answering the question honestly. I won’t take it as bragging, I promise.”

“Okay. There was a new student who transferred to my high school in my junior year. He was a sophomore. I met him when he joined our glee club. I thought he might be gay because he had very obviously dyed blonde hair.”

“Is he? Gay, I mean.” Blaine asks.

“No, Sam is straight. But he was pretty much the only straight boy in high school who didn’t seem threatened by my gayness. I actually asked him to be my partner in a duet competition we were having and he said yes. In fact, from what I heard later, he even stuck with me after a former crush of mine told him that singing with me would be social suicide.”

“Wow, it’s pretty rare to find a straight guy – or any guy – in high school who will stand up to peer pressure like that. I bet you blew the competition away,” Blaine says.

“Oh, no. We didn’t perform together after all.”

“Why not?”

“That former crush of mine talked to me about it, too. He tried to convince me that I shouldn’t do that to Sam. That singing with me would be like painting a bulls eye on his back for the resident homophobic thugs.”

“And you went along with that?”

“Not at first, but then he talked to my dad, too. And my dad agreed with him.”

“Wait, a guy you used to have a crush on talked to your dad about you? How did he even know your dad? Were you even friends with this guy?”

“Yeah, we’re friends. And step brothers, actually. Though we weren’t at the time. His mom married my dad.”

Blaine furrows his brow for a moment, thinking. “The guy who convinced someone else not to sing with you was your step brother? Finn, right? You’ve talked about him.”

“Yes. He’s come a long way, but back then he wasn’t exactly my biggest supporter or the biggest supporter of being different in general.”

“Wait a second. You had a crush on your step brother?”

Kurt gives an exaggerated wince. “Yeah, I know that sounds bad. But he wasn’t my step brother at the time. By the time that happened, my crush was long dead.”

“But still,” Blaine insists, “that must be awkward.”

“No, it doesn’t really ever come up,” Kurt says with finality. “Anyway, back to answering the original question. So, Sam and I didn’t sing the duet, but we did become friends. And later in the year, his dad lost his job. Sam and his parents and his little brother and sister were all living in a motel room for a while. So I helped them out with some extra clothes and food. He was really embarrassed, so he wanted me to keep it a secret. Only one other friend of ours knew, and she and I helped babysit his brother and sister. We would take them out and make sure Sam had some time alone to get his homework done.”

“Wow, all five of them in one hotel room. How long did he have to live like that?”

“It went on for a few months. Then his whole family moved out of state when his dad got another job.”

“And you all kept that a secret from your other friends for that long?”

“No, actually. That wasn’t possible because Rachel, who was really nosy, saw Sam wearing an old jacket of mine and thought that I was secretly dating him.” Kurt pauses for a moment, as if working himself up to his next sentence. “So she started following me around to spy on us. It was actually the scariest thing in the world, to find out someone you love and care about, someone you thought loved and cared about you, is spying on you. It actually took me a long time to forgive her.”

Blaine’s stomach drops to the floor and he chokes back a gasp. Blaine doesn’t know how long he stares at Kurt, mouth hanging open, head spinning, and blood rushing in his ears, before he’s snapped out of it with Kurt’s sharp, “What?”

“Nothing,” Blaine says too quickly. Kurt is staring at him with his head cocked, like he is trying to solve a puzzle. Blaine stutters, “I mean – y-you’re r-right. That does sound horrible. I c-can’t imagine…What happened?”

“She accused us of having this secret relationship and started spreading rumors about it throughout the school. So we told her the truth. She ended up being really sweet and she and Finn helped raise some money to buy Sam’s guitar back out of the pawn shop.”

“Wow. Um, I know you’re not close with Rachel anymore, but you did say you forgave her. For spying on you…”

“Yes, I did.”

“How did that work? I mean, do you think if she did something differently that you could have forgiven her more easily?”

Kurt thinks for a moment. “Um, I don’t know. I just wish she hadn’t done it in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have had to forgive her at all. But she was always like that. Sticking her nose in other people’s business, trying to run everyone’s lives, thinking she knew better than everyone else. She was always so annoying, but damn could she sing. Her voice is amazing. And she really is a sweet person. You want to kill her because she’s so annoying and then she turns around and does something so loving…” Kurt pauses, smiling at a distant memory. Coming back to the present, he continues, his tone serious. “But I don’t think she could have done anything to make it better. It just took time. And I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have forgiven her. My own dad used to tell me I was way too forgiving. He blamed it on me being a teenager, and wanting to have friends so badly. It’s not always a good trait to have. People start to walk all over you.”

“No, no,” Blaine says in a rush. “I don’t agree with that. I think it’s beautiful that you forgive people. More people should. Forgive, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But my Dad was right, too. I grew up, and I’m a lot more cautious now. Not that I can imagine a situation where something like that would happen to me again, but if it did, I don’t think I could get over it.” Kurt looks at Blaine pointedly and says, “It’s you.”

“What?” Blaine splutters, eyebrows threatening to jump off of his forehead.

“It’s your turn,” Kurt says with a quizzical look as he passes the bowl of folded papers to Blaine.  

“Oh, right.” Blaine coughs into his hand and rubs his eyes, relishing a moment to hide his face from Kurt’s gaze. He reaches into the bowl and pulls out a number. “Three forty.”

Kurt flips through the book. “Here it is. Three forty. ‘Did a sibling or childhood peer ever tease or torment you?’ It also says, ‘share the details.’” Kurt looks at Blaine expectantly.

“I can definitely say yes to this one. I have an older brother. He’s nine years older than I am. I’d say most of my early childhood memories involve being tormented by him,” Blaine chuckles.

“What did he do?” Kurt asks.

“A lot of teasing about my height. Holding things just out of my reach, that sort of thing. I always had this daydream that when I grew up I’d be taller than Cooper, but it never happened. He’s a good six feet and I’m still short.”

“What about now? Do you get along any better?”

“Not really. I mean, we try a bit harder now, but it’s hard to feel like you never measure up.”

Kurt stares at him, biting his lips against a giggle.

“Oh God,” Blaine groans, throwing his hand over his eyes dramatically. “I really didn’t mean that as a pun, I swear.”

Kurt’s giggle bursts through the fingers pressed against his lips. It’s like a dam breaking and they both laugh for a moment before catching their breath.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt gasps out, schooling his face back to a mask of serious, attentive listening. “Please go on. I really do want to hear more about your relationship with your brother.”

“It’s okay, really. And there isn’t much more to say. But I think one reason I didn’t pursue acting or theater or singing professionally was so that I didn’t have to compete with him so directly.”

“What do you mean? Is he in show business in some way?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. He’s not really famous or anything. I admire him for sticking with it in such a tough business – ”. Blaine stops abruptly and sneaks a nervous glance at Kurt, wanting to kick himself for inadvertently saying something that could sound like a sleight on Kurt’s own decision to quit trying out for Broadway productions. But Kurt just looks absorbed in Blaine’s story. Blaine swallows back the apology lodged in his throat and forces himself to continue. “He’s done some small parts in movies and TV shows. But he’s never really made it big. And honestly, he’s not really a very good actor. He thinks he is, though. And back when I thought I might go into acting or singing, he was always trying to give me all this ridiculous advice. He’d do it in front of my friends, too. And they were all hanging on his every word just because he’d been in some stupid commercial.”

“Oh wait a second. Is your brother the guy who did those free credit rating dot com commercials? I thought I had heard that he was local.”

“Yes, that’s the one.” Blaine rolls his eyes as Kurt sings the jingle excitedly.

“Oh my God, Blaine. I had such a crush on your brother when I was in high school.”

“Wonderful,” Blaine says flatly.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Kurt rushes to say, while leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Blaine’s lips. “You’re the one I’m with. And you’re pretty cute, yourself.” He pulls away from Blaine and settles back into his seat. “I might ask you to get me an autograph the next time you see him, though,” Kurt teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Blaine rolls his eyes and pushes the bowl toward Kurt. “Your turn again.”

Kurt flashes a quick smile at Blaine and reaches his hand in the bowl. “Seven nineteen.” He hands the book to Blaine.

“Okay, here we go,” says Blaine, opening the book. “In relationships, are you more often the ‘heartbreaker’ or the ‘heart broken’ and why? Hmm, do I really want to know the answer to this question,” Blaine jokes. But the laughter dies on his lips as he looks up from the book into Kurt’s stricken face.

They stare at each other in silence for a few moments before Kurt nearly whispers, “I didn’t realize there would be relationship questions in here.”

“It’s okay, Kurt. You don’t have to answer that. Let’s just stop,” Blaine soothes, scooting closer to Kurt and resting a reassuring hand on his thigh.

“You said we should answer everything,” Kurt says grimly, staring at his hands.

“Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

“No, Blaine. You’re right. How can I ever fully trust you – or expect you to trust me – if I don’t start taking that chance,” Kurt says reluctantly.

“Look at me,” Blaine pleads, ducking his head down into Kurt’s line of vision. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. We can talk about this stuff any time. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Kurt’s gaze finally reaches Blaine’s eyes, resting there for a moment before darting away like a nervous bird. “I want to trust you,” Kurt whispers brokenly. “I don’t know what I’m so afraid of, really. I’m sorry. This is just so embarrassing.”

“No, Kurt. Don’t be embarrassed.” Blaine stands and closes the distance between them, pulling Kurt up and into a tight hug. They stand pressed together for a long while, Blaine squeezing Kurt tight, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back, as if trying to convey his trustworthiness through their very skin.

Drawing back, Blaine strokes the sides of Kurt’s face softly, reverently, his pale skin the most precious and valuable thing Blaine has ever encountered. He presses gentle lips against Kurt’s lips again and again. Feeling sudden moisture under his fingertips, he pulls back slowly and sees the tears streaming down Kurt’s face.

“What is it, baby?” he asks softly and wiping and kissing the tears gently away.

“Blaine,” he says brokenly, then buries his head in the crook of Blaine’s neck, pulling their bodies flush into another hug. Blaine strokes his back as Kurt’s tears roll down his neck and soak into his shirt. After a few minutes of silence, Kurt chokes out, “the way you touch me. Like I’m so precious to you. No one else has ever – ” Kurt sobs, his body jumping in Blaine’s arms like a frightened animal.

“You are so, so precious, Kurt. So precious.” Blaine murmurs variations on this theme into Kurt’s hair, finally whispering, “I love you.”

Blaine isn’t sure how long they stand there clutching each other. Eventually Kurt’s breathing evens and his tears dry. Blaine doesn’t press Kurt for details about his past relationships, but he does urge him to see a counselor to talk through his relationship and trust issues. “After all, I work in a hospital. I can hook you up with the best counselors out there. Might as well get some use out of me,” Blaine jokes badly, forcing himself to chuckle. Kurt smiles and says he’ll think about it.

The next day, when Blaine gives him a name and phone number, Kurt smiles and sticks the piece of paper in his back pocket. By the next week, Kurt mentions casually that he has booked an appointment.    

 

**May 13, 2023**

Blaine is already soaking wet and quite cold, running homeward from the subway station through the rain, when Kurt, laughing and yelling at him to slow down, catches up to him, his modest umbrella just barely covering them both. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” Kurt pants, his mock anger betrayed by the upward turn of his lips. “Now you’re going to get me wet.” Kurt slides his arm around Blaine’s waist and holds the umbrella high above their heads as they walk.

“You could have told me you had an umbrella,” Blaine whines.

“I really didn’t think you’d take off like that,” Kurt laughs. “Did you think that if you just ran fast enough, you could dodge most of the rain drops?”

Blaine gives Kurt a stern look, holding it for just a moment before a giggle breaks through. “Where did that umbrella even come from? Are you some kind of secret magician?”

“It’s my emergency umbrella,” Kurt says primly. “It folds up very small. I keep it in my bag at all times to avoid getting caught in an unexpected rainstorm wearing sensitive fabrics.”

“That was unexpected, all right.” The sky was perfectly clear when they had walked from the restaurant to the movie theater earlier that night.

Once in the building, Kurt shakes off his umbrella and they clamber up the stairs. Kurt leaves his umbrella in the hallway and follows Blaine into his apartment. “Just give me a minute to towel off and grab a dry shirt,” Blaine calls over his shoulder, already heading for the bathroom.

When he gets to the bathroom door he turns, almost colliding with Kurt, who has followed him. “Why put on another shirt,” Kurt asks slowly, “when I’m just going to take it off again later?”

“Well, in that case…” Blaine grins as Kurt runs a hand down his chest, pausing to circle a nipple through the clingy, wet cloth. Kurt smiles back and presses their lips together in a gentle kiss as he slowly works each button open, then slides the shirt off Blaine’s arms.

Moaning, Blaine grabs Kurt’s ass and drags him forward, deepening their kiss and grinding against him. He lifts Kurt by his hips and places him on the counter, forcefully pulling his knees apart and standing between his legs, gripping his thighs hard and rocking him forward as they kiss.

Kurt groans loudly and grips Blaine’s biceps, opening his legs even wider and pulling Blaine closer with his heels on Blaine’s back. Their kissing becomes more and more frantic as Kurt pushes and pulls, plunging forward with his tongue and pulling back to nip at Blaine’s lip, little noises of pleasure escaping from his throat and into Blaine’s mouth.  Driven nearly mad with desire, Blaine rocks his hips forward hard, slamming Kurt backwards on the counter.

“Mmpff,” Kurt grunts as though trying to speak, pushing back on Blaine’s chest and breaking off their kiss. “W-wait,” he pants, their lips only inches apart.

“What?” Blaine asks stupidly, unable to focus on anything beyond his overwhelming need to touch and kiss and press close to Kurt, who is wearing entirely too many clothes.

“I just – I don’t think this is a good idea,” Kurt stammers between ragged breaths.

“Why?”

As soon as Blaine releases his hold on Kurt’s thighs, Kurt hops off the counter and rubs at his backside in an exaggerated fashion. “The edge of the sink was digging into my tailbone,” he offers as an explanation, but he doesn’t meet Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine glances at the smooth, flat counter where Kurt had been sitting, nowhere near the edge of the sink. “Oh.”

“Besides, it was getting a little weird,” Kurt continues softly, still looking everywhere but directly at Blaine. “I mean, what were we thinking, anyway?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I was thinking that you are really hot and it would be incredibly sexy to just go at it right here, in the bathroom, in front of the mirror…” Blaine tries with a questioning tone.

Kurt picks nervously at his cuticle. “That’s really nice of you to say, I guess – ”

“I’m not just saying it,” Blaine insists, a hint of frustration escaping in spite of his efforts to sound loving.

“I believe you,” Kurt says, unconvincingly. “I just – think I’d feel more comfortable if we, you know, do things in a more, uh, conventional way.”

“Oh,” Blaine says flatly. “Um, okay. I guess we can do that.” Although part of him wants to accuse Kurt of being a hypocrite, wants to figure out how to force Kurt into being as spontaneous, wild and kinky with him as he was on his own in front of the mirror, he stops himself. Instead, he takes a few deep breaths, takes Kurt’s hand in his and leads him toward the bedroom.

“I’m not sure I’m even in the mood anymore,” Kurt says, dragging his feet and trailing behind Blaine.

Blaine rolls his eyes, then schools his features into neutrality before he turns and kisses him – softly at first, then deeper. “Let me see if I can change that, okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt whispers against his lips, following with small steps as Blaine walks backwards toward the bed, stopping every few steps to shed more clothing.

Blaine is relieved when he has Kurt’s dick in his mouth, lubed fingers probing at his entrance. He glances up and sees that Kurt has his eyes closed. _I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be thrilled. After all, isn’t this what I’ve longed for – to touch him, to be the one to give him pleasure, to call him mine?_ And Blaine is so happy to have these things. But he had always thought that if he could just have Kurt as his boyfriend, he wouldn’t spy on him anymore. That he wouldn’t need to. But he really did think that Kurt would be as carefree and wild with him as he was on his own. And now that he’s not, it’s hard sometimes for Blaine not to regret the putting up that drywall.

Blaine pulls his fingers out of Kurt gently and puts on a condom, studying Kurt’s peaceful face. Suddenly, Kurt opens his eyes and smiles, wrapping his legs around Blaine’s torso as Blaine pushes against his entrance. Blaine smiles back – he can’t help it. 

Blaine’s resentment melts away completely as he moves in and out of Kurt, leaning down after every few strokes for a kiss. Kurt comes first, clenching and thrashing and spilling over his own hand onto their stomachs. It’s the sight of Kurt’s face, twisted in ecstasy and his soft whimpers, even more than the vice-like spasm of his ass around Blaine’s cock that has Blaine coming mere moments later. By the time he pants, “That was great,” he tells himself that he believes it entirely.

Later, when they are both dressed again and lounging on the sofa with two steaming mugs of tea, Blaine asks, “Did you like the movie?”

“Yes,” Kurt says lazily, stretching out one leg languidly and crossing it over the other. “I’m a sucker for a good old-fashioned romantic comedy. What did you think?”

“It was okay,” Blaine says. “Fun, but not very realistic. I mean, you would be pretty hard pressed to find anyone in real life who ever had that many over-the-top embarrassing things happen to them in one week.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees. “I had some whoppers of embarrassing things going on in my life, but never all in the same week. It’s a good thing those characters took it all in stride, or I would have felt bad laughing about it.”

“I know what you mean,” says Blaine. “They were in college, though. I would say that a disproportionate amount of the embarrassing things that happened to me took place in college. Or high school.”

“Oh really,” Kurt says with interest. “Do tell. What was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?

“I don’t know if I should tell you this,” Blaine says, trying to hide his blushing cheeks by rubbing a hand over his face rapidly. “After all the hard work I’ve done to seem sophisticated to you.”

Kurt, who had just taken a large swallow of tea, snorts and claps a hand over his mouth, muffling an ugly sound that is somewhere between laughing and choking. When he gets his breath back he deadpans. “Oh, come on. After I practically have tea shoot out of my nose in front of you? You have to tell me now.”

“Okay, okay,” Blaine says, holding his hands up in defeat. “Now believe me, I have a lot I can choose from, but I guess I would have to say the time I serenaded a guy I liked. He was a manager of the Gap and I showed up there unannounced, backed up by my entire show choir, and sang When I Get You Alone with full a capella backup.”

“I don’t know that song. How does it go?” Kurt asks.

Blaine hums a few bars of it. When Kurt shrugs and shakes his head, Blaine says, “I don’t remember all the words. But just know that one of the lyrics is ‘you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight.’”

Kurt starts to laugh and Blaine adds, “Yeah, it was that bad. Jeremiah – that was the guy’s name – kept walking away from me and ignoring me, as if I must be singing to someone else. But I was so into the performance, that I didn’t even really notice it. One of my friends had to point all of this out later.”

“Wow,” Kurt winces sympathetically.

“It gets even better,” Blaine says wryly. “I jumped on the furniture – you know, the tables with the sweaters folded on them and stuff – several times. I think I even shimmied under one of the tables. It was pretty crazy. When I finally ended the song with a big flourish, I made a show of buying a pair of socks so I could corner him at the cash register and ask him out. This was right before Valentine’s Day, by the way.”

“What did this guy – this Jeremiah – do? Did he end up going out with you?” asks Kurt bemusedly.

“Are you kidding?” Blaine snorts. “This wouldn’t be nearly as embarrassing a story if he said yes.  Apparently, he wasn’t out at his job. And his boss didn’t like the disruption our singing caused in the store. So, I not only embarrassed myself, but got the object of my affections fired and outed him in the process. Needless to say, he wasn’t particularly fond of me after that.”

“Ouch,” says Kurt. “Fired and outed is pretty bad. I didn’t even out Dave when he was bullying me and threatening my life.”

“Why not?” Blaine asks, the laughter dying on his lips.

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, looking into the distance. “I guess I just believe really strongly that a person should get to decide, themselves, when and how to come out. It’s such a personal decision, you know. They shouldn’t have that kind of pressure.” Kurt put his cup of tea down on the table and leaned back, meeting Blaine’s eyes again. “Honestly, the thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

“You’re a far better person than I am,” Blaine says furtively, his eyes darting automatically toward the hallway leading to the bedroom and the walk-in closet.

“I don’t know if you’d still say that if you knew what I was thinking sometimes,” Kurt says quietly, eyes on his hands. Slowly he looked up, meeting Blaine’s gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t your spontaneous fantasy today. I wanted to be. It’s just, sometimes I think, if I let myself go like that…” he trails off, looking down again.

Blaine grabs Kurt’s hands and squeezes until Kurt looks up at him again. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I love everything we do together.” Blaine wants to add more, to find that perfect combination of words that will melt all of his insecurities, but all he can think about is watching Kurt through the mirror. _And I can’t ever tell him about that._ Instead he smiles reassuringly and keeps his thoughts to himself.  

“Yeah, me too,” Kurt says, getting to his feet and stretching a bit. “Well, I’m going to get another cup. Do you want anything while I’m up?”

“No, I’m good,” Blaine says, watching Kurt’s ass as he strides purposefully toward the kitchen. When Kurt turns the corner, Blaine sighs and buries his head in his hands.

 

**May 30, 2023**

It’s only eight p.m. on Thursday and already Blaine is yawning. He didn’t get much sleep last night. He usually doesn’t on Wednesdays. On Wednesdays, Kurt does an extended yoga session at home and Blaine stays in his own apartment brooding in front of the closet wall. A few times, he even pressed his ear to the wall, straining to hear anything that would give him a clue about what Kurt was doing. About what kind of incredible sex shows might be going on just four inches from Blaine’s face without his knowledge.

But when Kurt catches him yawning and asks if he’s okay, Blaine smiles wide and blames the tiredness on a long day at work. “I feel so much better now that I’m with you,” he says. He makes an effort to be more animated, chattering with Kurt happily and drinking a few extra cups of strong Chinese tea.

“I can’t believe we get Thai all the time and have never had Chinese together before,” Blaine says, shaking his head a bit in disbelief as he scrapes the last bits of shrimp with black bean sauce from the plate with his fork.

“And it’s not likely we’ll be getting it again,” says Kurt ruefully. “Not unless another new place opens up in the neighborhood. I was willing to give these guys a try, but I am not impressed. I’m going to make some more tea to wash this down.”

“Wait, you haven’t had your fortune cookie, yet.” Blaine hands one of the plastic-wrapped cookies to Kurt, who shrinks back with a look of distain. “Oh, come on. It’s the best part of getting Chinese!”

“No way,” says Kurt, pushing the cookie further from him on the table. “Those things can hardly be called a culinary delight. Besides, they’re usually stale.”

“Well at least open it up and see what the fortune is, spoil sport,” Blaine teases.

Kurt reaches for the cookie and snaps it apart, carefully opening the plastic to remove the slip of paper.

Blaine struggles to swallow down the cookie he is chewing through his closed-mouth chuckles that soon turn into raucous guffaws. 

“What is it? What does it say?” Kurt asks, his slip of paper still unread in his hand.

“Oh God,” Blaine chokes out between chuckles. “This is the most perfect fortune for adding ‘in bed’!”

“Adding in bed?” Kurt asks, puzzled. He gets the wrong emphasis on the words, as if he thinks Blaine is talking about scribbling math problems in a note pad while sitting propped against a pillow resting on the headboard.

Blaine’s laughing slows and he gasps for breath. “You’ve never done that?” he asks incredulously.

“Add in bed?” Kurt repeats questioningly.

“It’s the funniest way to read a fortune cookie,” Blaine explains. “You read whatever it says and then add the words ‘in bed’ to the end. It can really make some pretty ordinary old fortunes hilarious. You have to try it.”

“Well, you seemed amused by yours. What does it say?” Kurt asks bemusedly.

“It says…” Blaine dissolves into laughter, doubling over with it for a moment. Regaining control, he tries again. “Okay, okay. Ahem. ‘Behind every good man there are many other good men’ – in bed!” He shakes with laughter again, eyes dancing with mirth as he grins triumphantly at Kurt. “Isn’t that awesome?”

Kurt can’t help but chuckle a bit himself. “That is quite the image, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it makes you wonder if the man at the register has the cookies already separated out and said ‘oh yes, these two are gay. They’ll like this one.’ What do you think?” Blaine jokes. 

“I don’t know,” Kurt says pensively. “I think it works equally well either way. If you’re straight, it’s just a funny joke. Or if you’re straight and don’t have a sense of humor, it’s just a wise saying.  If you’re gay, it can be a joke, too. Or a fantasy.”

Blaine’s last chuckles die in his throat and he stares at Kurt with intense interest. “Is it one of yours?” he asks seriously.

“Is what one of what?” Kurt throws back absently.

“Is being with more than one man one of your fantasies?” Blaine’s voice is low and dark.

Kurt blushes and chuckles nervously. “No, not particularly.” After a moment his eyes widen and he shoots back, “Why? Is it one of yours?”

“No. I don’t think I’d like that either,” Blaine answers honestly. In an attempt to turn the conversation back toward teasing, he adds with a sultry pout, “I don’t like to share.” 

The pout is lost on Kurt, whose gaze is focused on the folded slip of paper in his hands. “I’m glad to hear it.” The next words are said lightly, but they send a chill down Blaine’s spine. “You were giving me traumatic flashbacks to having Sebastian live next door. He used to love making me uncomfortable by inviting me join in whenever I saw him with ‘company’ in the hallway.” 

“Wow, he’s – uh – quite a character,” Blaine says haltingly. He squirms in the awkward silence and struggles to bring back the previous mood with forced joviality. “What’s your fortune? Maybe this one will be one of our fantasies, heh, heh.”

Kurt unfurls the paper and scans the words, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, cheeks burning bright red.

“What is it?” Blaine demands, his curiosity coursing through him like a frantic animal.

Kurt slides the paper across the table toward Blaine mutely, averting his eyes.

Blaine reads it aloud and nearly has to pinch himself to keep his gasp at bay. “You excel at putting on a show. Prepare for all eyes to be on you.” _In bed._ “Oh my God,” the words fly from Blaine’s mouth almost of their own accord. “This one is actually true!”

Blaine’s eyes fly open wide and he clamps a hand over his mouth. _I didn’t say that out loud. Please God. I just imagined it._ He holds his breath, slowly bringing his hand away from his mouth and down to his lap, studying Kurt for a reaction. 

Kurt’s expression is unreadable, but all color has drained from his face. Any remaining doubts Blaine has are shattered when Kurt asks in a hollow voice, “How do you know that?”

 _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. This is my worst nightmare. This is worse than forgetting all the words to the songs when I’m on stage._ “Stage!” Blaine blurts out, wanting to kick himself for always shouting the first thing that comes into his head. Kurt remains silent, fixing him with a stony stare. Hurriedly, Blaine continues. “I mean, your play. That will soon be on a stage, in front of an audience, right? I mean, you did sign up for that musical writing class at the center, didn’t you?”

Kurt blinks rapidly and looks down, the blush starting to rise on his cheeks again. “Oh, yes. Yes I did sign up.” The next words are a murmur, barely audible. “I thought you meant something else.”

In a rare moment of self-preservation, Blaine pretends he doesn’t hear Kurt’s last words. “Well, there you go,” he says triumphantly. Realizing he probably needs to explain the wide eyes and hand clamped over his mouth, he adds, “But I’m sorry to bring it up. I know it took a lot of courage for you to even consider sharing that play with me, let alone with anyone else. So, I felt like an idiot as soon as those words came out of my mouth. So, you know – mmpf.” Blaine clasps his hand over his mouth again in demonstration, muffling his last word and throwing his eyes wide in an exaggerated, comical version of his earlier moment.

Kurt puffs out a small chuckle and his shoulders relax just a bit and he settles back into the chair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you encouraged me to take that playwriting class at the community center. But don’t go giving the fortune cookie gods too much credit. Just because I sign up for a class doesn’t mean I’ll be ‘putting on a show’. There are at least a dozen other people signed up, and they’re only going to pick one play to perform.” Kurt says shyly. 

“Oh, come on. Of course they’re going to pick yours,” Blaine insists. “It’s fantastic already, and when you take the class it’s only going to get better.”

“You are too kind,” says Kurt, now fully recovered. “But even if the play is performed, I don’t think any eyes will be on me.” 

“Aren’t you going to play the lead?”

“No, it’s way too personal to me for that. I only really agreed to even think about sharing that play with an audience because you reminded me that no one has to know it’s autobiographical. So I think it would be better to let someone else play the part. Also, that lets me enjoy it from the audience – once – instead of having to relive it again and again with each performance.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. When you put it that way...”

“Yeah. I mean, I found writing it to be very therapeutic and Dr. Taylor agrees that it can really help me to work through my – issues. But even she agrees that I shouldn’t push it.”

“That makes sense,” Blaine agrees.

“Speaking of plays,” Kurt says, “I’m supposed to be off-book for Peter Pan by next week’s rehearsal. Would you help me run lines?”

“Absolutely,” Blaine says, stacking their plates and turning to carry them into the kitchen.

“But before that,” Kurt says, “Do you think you can give me another one of those massages. You know, like you did a few months ago. I have another inexplicable pain in my back – the exact same spot.”

Blaine fumbles the dishes, silverware clattering to the floor. He whips around, staring at Kurt.

“You okay?” Kurt asks innocently. “Need some help?”

“No,” Blaine says, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Um – just let me clear these dishes…”

“You can just leave them,” Kurt says, taking the plates from Blaine’s hands and putting them on the counter while Blaine crouches down to gather up the silverware. “I’ll clean them up tomorrow. After all, I can’t very well ask you to do my dishes on top of all the other favors.”

“Okay,” Blaine says numbly, following Kurt into his living room toward the couch. In front of the mirror. Where Kurt had most likely performed self-fellatio again last night.

 

**Two Years Later – June 17, 2025**

“Thanks, Mike. Yeah, we’re excited, too,” Blaine says into his phone. He is sitting on the couch in the living room, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. “I know, it’s crazy. Neither one of us has ever owned anything in our lives and now we own a whole building.” He listens for a minute, picking a piece of lint off his pants. “Yeah, we can walk you guys through the process if you ever decide to take the plunge. It’s really a great investment…yeah, I know, but we don’t have to do any maintenance ourselves. We have a company to do that.” He nods, listening for a moment, then laughs. “Well, when you and Tina get engaged, your parents might be generous, too.”  

A moment later, he says, “Hold on, let me check with him.” Holding a hand over the phone he shouts, “Kurt? Mike wants to know if we’re both free Sunday night for dinner. Says he and Tina found an amazing French bistro in their neighborhood and thought you would love it.”

“Sunday’s good,” Kurt calls from the kitchen.

“Mike?” Blaine traps the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and his ear. “Yeah, we can do that. Six o’clock?” He fishes a scrap of paper out of his back pocket. “No, you don’t have to text it. If you have the address in front of you just give it to me now. I’ll write it down. I just need to find a pen.” Automatically, Blaine reaches for the drawer in the side table and pulls it open. He reaches in and his hands close on a smooth, thick object. _Oh crap! I keep forgetting that’s in here._ He drops the dildo into the drawer with a loud clunk and spins around at the sound of Kurt’s footsteps, nearly dropping the phone in the process.

“You needed a pen…” Kurt’s voice trails off as he takes in Blaine’s heated look, the open drawer, and the gleaming dildo on display. “Oh,” he says softly, as the pen in his outstretched hand drops to the floor. Kurt holds his hand out, palm up, and Blaine hands the dildo to him.

“Still looking, give me a minute,” Blaine says, eyes trained on Kurt and making no move for the pen still rolling on the floor.

Kurt gives Blaine a searing look and licks a broad stripe up the dildo before closing his eyes in mock ecstasy and sucking lightly on the tip.

“Actually, can you text it to me after all? I don’t have a pen,” Blaine says, frozen in place. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He ends the call and drops the phone. It hits the sofa with a soft thud.

“Hold this for me,” Kurt commands, guiding the handle of the dildo into Blaine’s hand, looking up at him through his eyelashes while still sucking and licking the silver tip.

“I,” Kurt says slowly, “am going to put on a show. For you.”

Blaine’s cock twitches with interest at these words. Kurt excels at putting on a show, after all.

Kurt moans as he sucks more of the dildo into his mouth. Blaine holds it steady for him and cups a hand on his jaw. Kurt smiles around the dildo before sucking in, hallowing out his cheeks.

“Oh God, Kurt, you’re going to kill me.” Still holding the dildo steady with one hand, he uses the other to palm his straining dick through his pants, rocking against it with his hips and groaning at the sensation.

“Don’t die yet,” Kurt says wickedly, pulling off of the dildo for a moment. “I’m going to need you later. This show is – shall I say – very hands on.”

Kurt drags his tongue up and down the dildo, his breath hot on Blaine’s hand. Never breaking eye contact, he pulls back and slowly unbuttons first his shirt and then his pants, sliding each to the floor before kicking them aside. Kurt isn’t wearing any underwear. _Has he been planning this all morning?_ Kurt’s cock bobs up and down, the tip already glistening. Blaine’s eyes widen and he practically groans at the sight.

“I’m going to show you,” Kurt says, drawing each word out into its own slow seduction, “exactly what I want you to do to me.”

Kurt pulls a bottle of lube from the drawer and coats his fingers. He bends over, slow and graceful, legs impossibly wide, bracing himself against a chair with one hand while the other circles his hole. He pushes his ass out toward the mirror, spreads his legs even more, and turns his head to watch as his finger breaches his entrance and slides smoothly inside. Kurt meets Blaine’s eyes in the mirror and shudders with pleasure, pulling his finger all the way out and circling the rim before plunging back in with two fingers. Kurt cries out, practically keening as his fingers slide in and out, in and out.

Kurt stalks toward Blaine and leans in for a dirty, wet kiss. Blaine moves his hands hungrily over Kurt’s back, pausing to knead at handfuls of flesh, desperate to touch him everywhere as they taste each other. Kurt kisses a wet trail from Blaine’s jaw to his ear, whispering, “I’ll take that,” as he pulls the dildo from Blaine’s hand.

Kurt repositions the chair in front of the mirror and Blaine hurriedly whips off his t-shirt and flings it toward the pile of Kurt’s clothes on the floor. He just manages to unzip his pants and fish out his aching cock before Kurt bends over the chair again and rubs the dildo up and down his crack, arching his back and spreading his legs wide once more.

Blaine scrambles up off the sofa and sheds his remaining clothes, his eyes fixed on Kurt. He makes quick work of tearing open a condom and sliding it on, then reaches down for the still open lube and squeezes some onto his hand, quickly coating his cock.

Kurt watches him through the mirror for a moment, before training his eyes on the dildo as he pushes it steadily past the rim and into his ass, moaning and writhing. Blaine walks behind him to get a better view, but only manages to watch for a moment before he’s reaching for Kurt, stroking his ass and pulling his cheeks apart. Watching Kurt is incredibly sensual, but _touching_ him is so much better, he thinks as he massages Kurt’s ass, the rim stretching gloriously around the dildo as it plunges steadily in and out.

Kurt watches Blaine through the mirror and whimpers, looking first at his eyes and then down to glistening cock as he continues to slide the dildo in and out, his back arched and his legs spread wide, muscles clenching and straining. Blaine steps forward and runs a hand down Kurt’s back, feeling the muscles ripple underneath him as Kurt stills his hand and begins thrusting back onto the dildo with his whole body, breathy moans escaping from his parted lips.

Blaine’s lube-slick hand closes over Kurt’s cock and he squeezes lightly, holding it still as Kurt rocks through his fist, forward and back. “Blaine, oh God,” Kurt moans desperately. “That feels so good. I need – oh God. I need you,” he pants, rocking back and forth faster with a whine.

“God, Kurt,” Blaine breathes out reverently. “You are so gorgeous, so incredibly hot. I need you, too.” Blaine’s hand wraps lightly around Kurt’s wrist and pulls back, easing the dildo out of him. Kurt opens his hand and the dildo clatters to the floor. With his hands on Kurt’s hips, Blaine slides up behind him and sits on the chair. He grips the base of his cock in one hand and pulls Kurt backwards with the other. “Ride me, baby,” he begs, guttural and low.

Kurt straddles Blaine and slowly lowers himself, his rim stretching around Blaine’s cock. Blaine throws his head back and groans in delight as he is completely encompassed by the hot, slick squeeze of Kurt’s hole. He traces the straining muscles of Kurt’s thighs with his fingers as Kurt raises himself until only the tip of Blaine’s cock is still in him, then lowers himself, slowly, all the way down until his cheeks rest on Blaine’s hips. Kurt works himself up and down, tweaking his nipples with his fingers, grinding his hips and shouting out his pleasure. He is watching them in the mirror, watching as Blaine’s cock disappears by inches into his hole as he sinks down, then reappears as he pushes up again, leaning his back against Blaine’s chest and moaning.

“Kurt, baby, I’m so close,” Blaine pants, wrapping a spit-slicked hand around Kurt’s shaft and pumping rapidly. “You got me so hot and bothered, watching you. I don’t think I can last much longer.”

“That feels so good,” Kurt moans, thrusting wildly into the tight channel of Blaine’s fist and then grinding back down onto his cock. “Don’t stop.”

“Come with me,” Blaine urges in a low, commanding voice. He can feel himself tipping over the edge, pleasure thrumming throughout his body and keeping him on edge. Chasing his release, his hand flies up and down Kurt’s cock and he pushes and pulls Kurt’s hip with his other hand, urging him to go faster. Blaine’s eyes roll back in his head and he practically screams as he grips Kurt’s hip hard and squeezes his dick, stilling as he cock twitches and pumps into the condom.

“Uggghhhnn,” Kurt groans, shuddering as his dick pulses in Blaine’s hand. Blaine slows his strokes, slicking Kurt’s come over his dick gently, as Kurt convulses in his lap, his ass squeezing Blaine’s spent cock as he continues to grind against Blaine weakly.

After a few moments, Kurt stands up on shaky legs. “Come here,” he says, tugging at Blaine’s biceps. He leads Blaine back to the sofa and pushes him down onto it, handing him an undershirt to wipe himself off. Blaine scoots back and onto his side just as Kurt lies down in front of him, taking the shirt back and wiping down his cock and stomach. Blaine brings an arm down in front of Kurt and pulls him until his back is flush with Blaine’s front, then lazily strokes Kurt’s hip.

They lie there in silence for a few moments, their eyes meeting in the mirror in front of them. Blaine kisses the back of Kurt’s head and says, “That was fantastic. You make me so incredibly happy, Kurt.” Blaine blinks, feeling just a hint of wetness squeeze out of the corner of his eyes. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I love you, too,” says Kurt. Then, after a pause he add, “And I love mirror sex.”

“Me too,” Blaine murmurs into Kurt’s hair. “Especially when you put on a show for me.”

“Well,” Kurt admits, “that wasn’t just for you.”

Blaine laughs. “I know nothing turns you on more than looking at yourself, Kurt,” he teases. “I was just graciously allowing you to pretend you do it for me.”

Kurt gasps and punches at Blaine’s leg awkwardly. They lie there for a moment, Blaine tracing circles on Kurt’s hip. Kurt stretches his legs a little, pointing his toes and says, “Seriously, though, we’ve had some really good times in front of this mirror.” He sighs dramatically. “I’m going to miss it.”

Blaine’s hand pauses in its trajectory on Kurt’s hip. “What?” he asks slowly.

Kurt sits up and looks at him. “Oh, come on. I thought you were paying attention when I showed you my sketches earlier.”

Blaine blinks at him slowly. Ever since they first started talking about buying the building, Kurt has been talking about the best way to combine their two apartments into one. They had mostly been living in Kurt’s apartment and using Blaine’s for storage or when one of them needed to do something noisy at the same time the other needed to concentrate. Kurt has shown Blaine countless sketches, endless variations on which walls to knock out and which rooms to convert to make their ideal apartment, combining the best features of both – the view out Kurt’s bedroom window, Blaine’s walk-in closet, the giant mirror. “I’m sorry, Kurt,” he says. “At a certain point they all start to blend together. Besides, I thought we agreed to keep the mirror right there.”

“I know I’ve changed my mind a lot,” Kurt says defensively. “But that’s just the way my creative process works. I have to play around with all the possibilities.” In a more contrite tone, he adds, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear, though. The ones I showed you tonight – those are the final designs. With where we want to put the extended bathroom and where the water pipes are, I just realized that the only way we can get everything we want is to tear down that wall,” he gestures toward the mirror. “We can put in a similar mirror in the new den. It’ll cost a little money to replace it, but in the scheme of things, that’s just a drop in the bucket on a remodeling job of this size.”

Kurt paces in his excitement, but when he finally stops and looks at Blaine, he stops. “Why do you look so glum?” he asks curiously. “What difference does it make to you if we move the mirror to a different wall?”

Blaine moves his mouth a few times soundlessly before he is able to form a sentence through the rising panic in his gut. “I don’t know,” he finally manages. “I just like it the way it is.”

“Look, I’ve already gone over every possible configuration – as you well know,” Kurt says, frustrated. “I don’t want to have to move the mirror, either. I mean, look, its inset in the wall. It’s going to be hard to replicate that streamlined look. But I just can’t find any other way. Besides,” he says suspiciously, “you weren’t so interested in any of this before. What’s going on? Do you have some secret documents stored inside that wall that you don’t want me to find?”

It’s as though time has slowed down and Blaine feels like he is hearing Kurt’s words from far away – muffled as if through thick layers of wood and glass. Panic licks sharp and cold up his spine and sweat is slick and cold on his back. He feels more exposed than naked, as if his very bones and veins were on display. He is staring at Kurt’s face, watching his mouth move as he speaks, hearing the words, but not comprehending them.

Seeing Blaine’s look of horror, Kurt practically yelps, “Oh my God, you do? I was just teasing you – ”

“Kurt,” Blaine cuts in with a low, strangled voice, barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”


End file.
